The Life You Gave Me
by Sivan IXXX
Summary: Raja and Altair finally arrive in Rome, a city full of ancient wonders and the deadly Brotherhood of Templar Knights. Complete.
1. Midnight Intruder

Disclaimer: I don't own Altaïr, Malik, or Al Mualim, so please do not sue.

Author's Note: I'm sorry I didn't complete the other story I wrote! My mind went blank as far as continuing because I didn't set up any of the chapters for a good plot. This one is entirely new. Takes place after Al Mualim gets killed. Review "kick me" if you want. I know I deserve it…..

Chapter One: Midnight Intruder

As the rest of the world slept one peaceful night, a young woman, desperate and afraid, ran for her life away from the dreaded Templars. The vast, deserted Kingdom provided no cover in the ghostly pale moonlight for the girl to hide. Her legs were burning with exhaustion from running nonstop with very brief breaks in between sprints in an effort to get away from the white devils chasing her.

Nothing was going to stop them from chasing her down, seizing her, and then executing the poor girl for being in the wrong family, which wasn't even in her control. Her father had been taken away to Alexandria a few days before, and there was very little hope that he was still alive. Just thinking about him tore at her heart, tears threatening to fall from her honey-colored eyes.

'I must be strong for him, or I'll never see him again,' she thought, pressing on. Up ahead, a few soldiers were standing around, passing a skin of alcohol amongst themselves. Thinking she could run right through them, she picked up her pace, only to be grabbed by the arm and pressed against a bony, malnourished body.

"Hey, pretty girl. Where are you going?" he said through slurred speech. His clothes reeked of the liquid he was drinking and his breath was horrendous. She gagged at the terrible smells emanating from him. His hand slid across her arm and over her breast, and out of instinct, she elbowed him in his stomach with all her might, making him drop the alcohol. It poured out onto the dirt and disappeared.

"You little wench!" he spat out as he slapped her across the face. Little did he know that she was not a submissive woman. The moment she recovered her balance, she landed a well-aimed punch on his nose, making him fall to the ground. The other inebriated men stood in awe, hushed at seeing their drinking companion laid out by a mere woman. They allowed her passage without a single word and she walked away satisfied, her anger finally taken out on someone who wouldn't even remember what happened.

"There she is! Stop her!" a Templar yelled out, quickly closing in on her. She instantly broke out into a run up a steep hill, gravity pushing against her muscles hard at work.

'I don't know how long I can keep this up...' She thought of turning around and running through them, but with the path growing smaller and smaller, she couldn't take the risk.

"If you stop now, your punishment will be a little less painful!" a voice threw at her. She ignored the offer and continued running until she no longer heard them trailing behind her. Perhaps they'd gotten tired of chasing her at last. But it was strange how quickly they stopped and disappeared from sight as if they knew something she did not.

'At least they stopped chasing me. I was about to give up,' she thought, observing her dark surroundings. The area was eerily still and quiet. There was a tall tower up ahead; she decided to catch her breath there. Along the way were bodies of Templars pelleted with arrows, a strange sight to her, yet she continued walking along.

There wasn't a single guard in sight inside and she took the opportunity to wander around and find some food. There was a whole sack full of freshly made bread and ripe fruit. Eagerly, she took an apple and a roll of bread and sat down to eat it. Though she had had better, this small meal tasted like heaven after three days with no food. She looked down at herself and laughed; she was a pitiful sight. If her father had caught sight of her in her current state, he'd have definitely had a fit. Her clothes were dirty and torn, and she looked so tired it aged her twenty-three year old face. She had even lost her shapely figure and now her clothes just hung off of her.

'Raja, you don't deserve this. I want to go home to Banghazi*.' A tear stung her eye and she let the tears flow as she sat. She was supposed to be at home with her family, sitting around the fire and enjoying one other's company. But no, she had been dealt a bad hand and now she had to deal with it.

"...Maybe you can speak to Altaïr about you becoming an Assassin, eh little brother?" a voice heavy with a Jerusalem accent suggested. A younger voice approaching her replied,"I don't know, Mahmed. Altaïr can be a bit intimidating, and also random. You never know **what** kind of mood he's in."

'Oh no! They're coming this way!' she thought, scrambling to her feet and hiding in the shadows. From her hiding place, she could see the red sash wrapped around their waists, and next to them long, deadly swords. She dared not speak or move at all. Then she noticed the half-eaten apple lying on the floor next to the older one's feet, hoping he'd take no note of it. But unfortunately, he looked down and picked it up.

"What's this apple doing on the floor?" he mumbled softly, and then he immediately drew his sword and calmly scanned the room.

"What is it, brother?" the younger one asked cautiously, unsheathing his sword as well.

"There's someone else here, but I cannot sense their presence."

'Great. I've run into more Templars. Could this day get any worse?' She let a small exhale escape her lips and he turned towards her quickly.

"Show yourself!" he commanded, his sword tip directed towards her. Panicked, she darted out and ran past them to the outside.

"Stop!" the younger one commanded, chasing after her. She decided not to run in the direction she came, so Raja ran further up the hill into a village protected by a large, wooden gate. She didn't care which direction she went; she just wanted to escape their sights. She veered to the right and ran up the hill without stopping.

Raja looked behind her, relieved that they weren't in sight. As she looked back, she didn't realize that she had stepped into a castle that loomed high over her head. The moment the warmth from the lamps touched her, Raja faced forward and froze dead in her tracks. Standing on the stairwell was a white-robed man, tall and menacing. His features were hidden by his hood, but she knew his eyes were focused on her.

"Not again..." she mumbled. He still hadn't moved; he was waiting to see what she was going to do. She took a step back and bumped into a somewhat soft wall. The younger of the two men was standing behind her and he grabbed her by her shoulders.

"You sure are fast," he said. Biting her lower lip, she kicked her leg backwards and hit him where it hurt. He immediately let go to comfort himself and she ran back outside, racing past the older man approaching mindlessly. The man that was once standing on the stairwell was now chasing after her, a white shadow moving with deadly speed.

'I'm surprised my legs haven't failed me yet!' she told herself. This was the most she had ever ran her whole entire life. Then suddenly, she felt a large hand wrap around her waist and pull her to a grinding halt.

"Don't even try that little kick move you did earlier. It won't work on me." Yet, like the defiant woman she was, she turned and pushed him; he remained unmoved like solid stone wall.

"Let me go, Templar!" she grumbled, trying to break free from his grip; he was much too strong.

"I am no Templar. They are my enemy," his deep voice growled. "Do not try to run from me again." Raja finally calmed down and exhaled long and hard. Her sultry voice spoke, "Fine." His hands were still on her and she brushed them off.

"There is no need to hold on to me anymore. I won't try to run again." She loosened the scarf tightly wrapped around her face to let the chilled night air cool her cheeks. He led her back up the hill to the castle in silence.

"So what are you going to do to me?" she asked.

"Maybe I should kill you for interrupting the peace and trespassing in Masyaf. Now that you know where the Assassins are located, I'm afraid I'll have to keep you here for life," his cold voice said.

"For life?"

*A coastal city in Libya.

So? Please read and review!


	2. Gender War

A/N: Welcome to the first revised chapter. Sadly, Altaïr will not be as cuddly as he was before. That's just the way he is. Enjoy!

Chapter Two: Gender War

_It's already been two weeks since I first came to Masyaf. Altaïr, the leader of the Assassins, has allowed—or should I say forced—me to stay here under his supervision, which is most unfortunate. But, he allows me to roam wherever I want, whenever I want—it's almost as if he doesn't care about what I do, not saying I want him to care. At least I stay here for free, with more than enough food. I've picked up a considerable amount of weight since we first met, so now I must wear Assassin's clothing until one of the other women here makes a dress that fits. And another note to remember: I have to WORK. I have never worked in my life, except cleaning dishes. I am to cook in the kitchen in the morning for breakfast, afternoon for lunch, and evening for dinner. In between I must wash clothes. MEN'S clothes at that._

_I must find a way to get out of here and find my father..._

_-Raja_

Raja placed her feather tipped pen in the vat of ink and closed the journal she created out of leather hide and old parchment. Her father had taught her many things as a child; he didn't want any of his children growing up ignorant in a changing world. He taught her how to read, write, and even use a sword.

She looked down at herself and frowned. The white robes looked so drab, like loose towels someone pieced together. Perhaps if she were a man she'd fit them better. But for the time being, she decided to alter it just a little.

Carefully, she tore the sleeves at the elbows and rolled them up, then tore the pant legs at the medial calve, letting the skin on her legs breathe in the heavy warm air. If she were Muslim—which is what all the women in Masyaf were—the men would definitely not approve of how she dressed.

A soft knock broke her focus from the mirrored image of her new outfit and she opened the door to Hifah, another young woman that had found Raja amicable.

"Raja, we have to get downstairs to start breakfast." She looked down at her clothes. "What did you do to this uniform?"

"I turned it into something more suitable to my taste." Raja closed the door behind her and they headed down the hallway. Hifah turned her head and noted that the Assassins that passed by were still looking at her long, brown legs as they walked away.

"How could you endure so much attention?" she asked, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. The younger girl fidgeted with the stitching of her veil.

"I just ignore them and mind my business. It's easy after a while." They descended the stairs to the outside courtyard. There were men gathered around the sparring ring, watching two men go at it. Taking a closer look, Raja noticed that there was a man with no left arm, slightly dark, and the other had his head covered. Altair and Malik.

She had come to find out that Malik was moved from his Jerusalem assignment because Altaïr deemed it necessary that he be in Masyaf for whatever reason. Altaïr said very little or no words at all to anyone else in that fortress.

Raja continued to look on, fascinated by the long, shiny swords that glistened in the sunlight.

"Can we walk faster? I don't like being here when they fight; it's too suspenseful," Hifah said in a soft voice. Suspense was what Raja loved the most about sword fights. It was a battle of the wills—a quarrel she constantly fought—and usually won. As they headed west, her head was still turned towards the fight, her mouth slightly open. She finally looked away and sighed. How badly she desired to be able to sword fight at least once. But living in a strictly patriarchal society and being a woman, that would probably not happen.

The kitchen was bustling with women shouting orders and scooting around each other, busy as bees in a hive. This was their livelihood—pleasing and serving men with hard work and food—a lifestyle Raja didn't particularly entertain in her head. There was so much more they could do with their lives.

"Pass me the flour, please!"

"Take the bread out of the oven!"

"The butter is melting!" Various commands and announcements jumped around the room.

'These women work so hard, I'm not even needed in here,' Raja thought, looking around at the women toiling to make the best food possible. Then out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a gloved hand in the doorway making its way for a fresh roll of bread. With quick reflexes, she grabbed the bread out of the hand's reach. She stepped outside to look into the eyes of the alleged bread thief and met a disgruntled—and famished—Altaïr. They exchanged icy glares and she pointed at him with the roll of bread.

"You can wait a few more minutes, Altaïr. You haven't even washed your hands." The other women had stopped working to nosily look on. He continued to glare down at her furiously, daggers in his eyes. She stood unfazed, hands now on her hips. He growled and turned, walking away towards the dining tables where Malik was sitting.

"Raja, I can't believe you just did that on your first day!" Hifah exclaimed, a wide smile on her cheeky face.

"Does he do that all the time? Steal bread?" she asked, looking back at him as they walked back into the kitchen. Altaïr was resting his chin on his hands as he observed his surroundings.

'Is he pouting because he didn't get his way?'

"Yes, but none of the women dare oppose the authority of Altaïr; he's scary."

"There's no reason to be afraid. He uses his size and position to bully you guys." Hifah hadn't heard her last statement; she was busy tending to the baking bread.

"Raja, we need you to put the dishes on the tables. But be careful; sometimes the men can get a little...out of hand." She grabbed two of the bowls, secured them with her biceps then held another two in her hands.

"So I won't have to make two rounds," she said with a smile, then casually walked over to the long, wooden table. The crowd grew quiet when she approached and they curiously looked on as she placed the bowls on the table. As she knelt over, her hair curtained her face in a seductive way, hiding her smile from them. Raja could sense Altaïr's eyes focused on her, watching her every move. Malik was awestruck by her beauty when she placed the bread on their table. She looked directly into his chocolate brown eyes and he childishly blushed and looked away.

'How cute,' she thought, admiring his innocence. Altaïr seemed a little irritated that they were exchanging glances in between him without even acknowledging his existence.

"Enjoy your meal, Masters," she curtsied, mocking a submissive servant. Altaïr's lip curved a little, and Malik placed a hand on his shoulder. Raja walked away satisfied, a smug grin on her face.

'One for me...'

By the time the afternoon rolled around, the Syrian sun had grown intense and being in the fields away from the shelter of trees was the last place Raja wanted to be doing laundry. The other women decided that they'd do lunch while she got a head start on the clothes so they could have extra time to relax. Sweat fell like bullets down her forehead and back, making her clothes stick to her in the humidity. There was a river nearby—maybe she could splash her face a few times then go back to the laundry. As she dipped her hands into the sensational cold of the river, footsteps approached her quietly, perhaps trying to go unnoticed.

"You cannot scare me with your silent tactics, Altaïr. I heard you before you even neared me." To her surprise, he was behind her in a flash, looming over her head ominously. Raja wet her face and ran a cooled hand over her neck before straightening up to face him. From the darkness in his hood, she could see the pair of soul-piercing, honey-colored eyes staring at her.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd assume you were an assassin sent to spy on my brothers and I."

"Well, you are wrong. I am nothing but a woman, held captive by an assassin." What sounded like a laugh escaped him. She furrowed her brows.

"Captive? If you say so, woman," he said, returning to the castle. A little angry, Raja shouted at him as he walked away, "My name is **Raja**, assassin!"  
_

So, end of revised chapter. Nothing much has changed, just the end. Now the flow of the story must be rewritten and will take time. For those reading it through for the first time, it'll be confusing and I'm sorry for that! Now review!


	3. Sweet Dreams

Author's Note: If anyone has insight on Altaïr's mysterious personality to make this story better, I'm all ears. Enjoy the next chapter!

Chapter Three: Keeping the Distance

The assassin continued walking away until he was nothing but a black dot against the horizon, then Raja returned to the laundry. She precisely remembered working on cleaning a blood spot out of a gray tunic...

One of the white robes blew off the clothesline in the wind and landed in the water. It wasn't until it was drifting downriver that Raja noticed.

"Oh no!" she exclaimed, rushing into the water to retrieve it. The gray piece would be lost forever. She was sure no one would cry over a missing tunic—it could easily be replaced. The river came all the way up to her bosom, so it was a struggle to get out.

"Do you need help?" a heavily accented voice asked. It definitely wasn't Altaïr. She looked up—it was Malik. Thank goodness it wasn't Altaïr, or she would have never heard the end of it.

"Yes, thank you." With his remaining arm he pulled her out with ease.

"Why were you in the river in the first place?" She raised the drenched clothing in the air. He chuckled lightly, dimples appearing in his round brown face.

"That could've been easily replaced. And now you're all wet. Come, let's find you some dry clothes." As they walked through the courtyard, they received numerous reactions to Raja's wet clothes that clung to her every curve. The women shook their head and the men did nothing but stare. Raja continued looking ahead, ignoring their comments and inferences they were making about her. Then Hifah came along.

"Raja, what happened? Did you fall in the river?" she asked.

"Yes, I did. I was trying to get some clothes that were about to be swept downstream."

"Oh, don't worry about the clothes that get in the river; that happens all the time. Malik, I will take care of her from here." He nodded then went off in the other direction.

"I saw Altaïr go to the laundry fields earlier. What did he do?" she whispered. Raja's face warmed when she recalled their argument. How could she let someone so juvenile get her so angry?

"Nothing. He came to speak to me about something, is all. Ah choo!" Hifah jumped when she heard her sneeze, and then laughed.

"You must be getting sick. We must get you to your room so that you can get in the bed." As they climbed the stairs, Raja started to tremble and a faint headache was forming in her forehead.

'My first day working and I get sick. I'm so pitiable!' she scorned herself. Her room was finally a few feet away and she rushed to it, eager to lie down.

"While you change, I will go and fetch some more clothes," Hifah said, turning around to go to the seamstress a few floors above. Raja closed the door and began undressing in front of it so if anyone opened the door, they would not see her naked.

A few moments later, a soft knock on the door interrupted the silence, followed by a soft voice.

"Raja, I found a sleeping gown for you." She opened the door slightly, extended her hand and grabbed the gown.

"Thank you, Hifah. I will rest now. Tell the Masters I will not be in today for the evening meal."

"Malik has already told him. Get well, Raja." The conversation ended and Raja gladly delved under her covers. Almost instantly she fell asleep.

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A few hours later, Raja awoke to a pounding headache and a stuffy nose. She was truly sick. She had the chills, but she was burning up at the same time. Something terrible had its grip on her body.

"You are finally awake." She turned her head in the direction of the voice to see a white robed man hidden by the shadows in her room.

"How long have you been here, Altaïr?" her voice was congested.

"Ever since you fell asleep. You are under my care, so I must watch over you as well as the physician." He sat in the chair next to her bed and studied her features from under his hood.

"You are not from here, are you?" he asked.

"No. I'm from Banghazi." A violent cough erupted from her body and he quickly forced her to drink a hot liquid that tasted like metal.

"What is that? It's horrible!"

"But it will make you feel better." He set the cup down on the nightstand and placed his large hand on her forehead.

"You have a fever," he said matter-of-factly. "How did you fall ill so quickly?"

"I went into the river to get some clothes." For the first time in two weeks since she got there Altaïr appeared to show some emotion, this one being scorn. His perfectly shaped lips were curved down in a frown.

"That happens all the time. You could've let them go. There was no need for your health to be at risk." When she exhaled, a slight roll came with every breath. She put a clammy hand to her cheek and moaned, "I've never felt so horrible in my life." Her sleeve fell down to her elbow and there was a small black marking right below her wrist. Altaïr's eyes immediately focused on it until it was hidden by her sleeve once again.

"How did you end up so far away from home?"

"About five weeks ago, I overheard a conversation between my mother and father about me. They were planning to send me overseas to some place called Spain, I think. For what reason, I did not hear. The conversation ended abruptly when Templars stormed through our front door and screamed at them about a map or something. My father begged them to take him instead of my mother, but they ignored his pleas. I stayed hidden, too terrified to intervene as they dragged her away. Then the following week, they came back for my father, asking again about some map. He swore he didn't know what they were talking about and they took him away. They tried to get me, but I managed to escape and I ran until I came here to Masyaf, looking for somewhere to hide," she concluded.

"Hm. Templars." His eyes were cast to the ground in deep thought. Ever since he joined the Creed, the Templars had always been their enemies. Unfortunately, his trusted Master, Al Mualim, was a former Templar, and had to be killed for breaking the three tenets.

"You don't believe me? Fine. It was never of your concern, anyway," she snapped back, her hazel-colored eyes boring into his honey brown ones. He turned his head to the side a little and asked, "You aren't afraid of me, are you?"

"Should I be?" she replied. He brought his left hand into view and revealed a shiny blade once hidden in his gauntlet.

"It wouldn't take long for me to end your life right now."

"You would have ended it long ago if you wanted," she lashed, then added, "Why didn't you?" Her vision was focused on the shadow underneath the hood, waiting for some sort of reaction.

"There's no need to answer me now, Altaïr. I could wait." She folded her arms across her chest. He sighed, exhausted from the muggy heat and rubbed the bridge of his nose. There were dark circles underneath his eyes; he probably hadn't slept in days.

"You are a very complex woman."

"And _you_ are tired. Go. Rest, so that you can keep watch over me during the day." His eyes focused on her, glowing like dark embers in the fireplace.

"I must stay here so that if your condition worsens, I'll know immediately," his impassive voice spoke.

"Then close your eyes and rest," her lurid voice said.

"I cannot fall asleep before you do," he replied.

"Yes you can. I have had my share of dreams for today. You look as if you haven't slept in ages." Silence fell between them and she got out of bed to grab a book to read. She crossed her legs and started humming a sweet, melodic tune as she turned the pages. The music entranced the assassin and he started to nod off, feeling relaxed in the warm atmosphere. As soon as his eyes closed and he fell into a deep sleep, she looked at him tenderly and wished him a good night in her mind.

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So? Please read and review! I'd like some feedback. I know most fanfics about AC are the same, but I' trying to do something different with this one. There's going to be a huge plot twist, so brace yourself! ^_^


	4. Exchange of Words

Author's Note: I know the last chapter ended a little corny, but I promise the next few chapters will be a little tense between the two. Time for the dive over the cliff of surprise!

Chapter Four: Exchange of Words

The next day, Altaïr awoke in his own bed, but he was still in his white robes.

'How did I get here?' he asked himself. As if answering his thoughts, Raja replied, "I brought you here." Her voice was no longer nasally; it was clear and strong once again. She was wearing a green sleeveless dress trimmed in gold, a very complementary color against her unscathed brown skin, with the exception of a few well-placed moles here and there.

"You sound like you're feeling better." A smile stretched from ear to ear on her face.

"I'm feeling better, thanks to that regrettably disgusting concoction you gave to me. It's almost noon; you've been sleeping since the early evening of yesterday. You must have been very tired. What have you been doing all these days?" she asked with slight concern. She sat down in a chair and rested her face on her palm, waiting patiently.

'She's too much like a child.' He exhaled sharply before he spoke.

"I've...been watching over you to make sure you don't run away." She began to redden, recalling all the times she went to the bathing pools.

"So...you've _seen_ me? _All_of me?" she asked, her eyes wide. He raised his hand in protest to her shrill voice, his ears ringing.

"Of course not. I didn't follow you _everywhere_. There were more important things for me to do than to watch a woman bathe." His eyes were closed the whole time he spoke.

"Good. Otherwise, I would have to put your eyes out." He opened his eyes, searching Raja's face for some hint of a joke. But he found none. Her eyes were stagnant, cold, and lifeless, reminding Altaïr of his own when he looked into the mirror.

"I'm guessing you're being serious this time?" She folded her arms across her chest in a juvenile way.

"Yes, I am. Lunch will be ready in a little while. I will be back to tell you when it's ready." She stormed off, a little annoyed at his arrogance.

'I spent the night watching over him while he slept and then carried him to his bed in the middle of the night. He weighs a ton and he snores like a growling demon! He could have at least thanked me...'

The kitchen was in view and Hifah was waiting for her.

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'What's wrong with that woman? No one asked her to do me any favors.' Suddenly, Malik burst through the door, a smile on his face. He was always in a slightly chipper mood.

"Altaïr, I came to check on you. When I came last night, you weren't here. I thought you went on one of your midnight runs." Altaïr folded his arms behind his head.

"I've been here the whole night. I just wasn't in my room." Malik held his chin, pondering, then opened his mouth wide and closed it in a smile. His friend was instantly sullen, anticipating a tease that never failed to enter their conversation.

"What is it, Malik?" he growled. Malik was still grinning. "Out with it, so that we can be done," he commanded as he tightened his bootstraps.

"You were with that woman you caught a few weeks ago, weren't you? I couldn't imagine you'd sneak in the middle of the night to be with a girl, Altaïr. Are you trying to turn over a new leaf?"

"Shut up, Malik," he mumbled. But he continued.

"I knew you liked her from the way you follow her around all the time. Have you seen her naked?" Altaïr jumped from his bed, ready to jump on his fellow Assassin.

"Malik, so help me, you will lose another arm if you don't be quiet. I don't have even a remote interest in that woman. From the day I caught her, I've kept close watch on her to make sure she doesn't betray us to the Templars she claims to be running from. There is a possibility she is being used against us."

Raja quietly stepped into Altair's room and their focus broke away from each other to her.

"Lunch is ready," was all she said, her eyes never meeting Malik's or Altaïr's. Immediately after that, she left their presence.

"Perhaps she overheard our conversation," Malik suggested.

"No."

"Well that would explain her sudden change in attitude. You should apologize to her. There were some things you said that weren't exactly nice." Altaïr scoffed.

"I'm not going to apologize to her. I've put up with her smart mouth up until now." Malik said nothing more, and they descended the stairs.

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'I knew he didn't like me, but I didn't know he was suspicious of me. I'll just keep my distance from him and mind my business. My plan once I get out of here is almost done, anyway...' she thought, kneading the dough on the counter top. Hifah was watching her, worried about the hardened glare on Raja's face.

"Are you alright, Raja? You don't look happy." She rubbed her shoulder consolingly.

"I'm fine. There's just a lot on my mind." Malik entered the kitchen and called Raja over to him. Hifah exchanged a smile with him.

"Yes, Master?" she asked.

"Please, don't call me Master. Just call me Malik. I'd like to speak to you for a moment." She wiped her hands on her apron then took it off and hung it up on the wall.

"May I ask what this is about?"

"I have come to apologize for Altaïr's rude behavior." Raja said nothing as she turned her back to him.

"He can be very inconsiderate of other people's feelings sometimes, and it's never easy for him to apologize. I know from firsthand experience." Now interested, she turned to listen attentively. Malik continued.

"About a year ago, Altaïr, my brother Kadar and I were assigned to go to Solomon's Temple to retrieve a sacred treasure. Altaïr was the head of the pack and he insisted on doing it his way, forgetting the three important Creeds we must follow as assassins. His arrogance and failure to listen resulted in the death of my brother, losing my arm, and Altaïr being stripped of his ranks. I was reassigned to Jerusalem since I could no longer function completely and it took all my might for a very long time to keep myself from killing him. It took many weeks for him to finally humble himself and apologize. But I did not accept his apology. He was not the same person he was just a few weeks before."

"Then has he returned to his old ways?" she asked.

"No. But he does have a tough time with women—especially you." She chuckled softly at his last comment. "Perhaps on his next mission you can melt the ice a little." Raja turned to him quickly.

"Mission? He's going to kill someone?" She enjoyed sword fighting, but she didn't like spilling blood. Malik mistook her reaction as worry rather than surprise.

"Don't worry; you'll be fine. I'm sure he won't allow harm to come upon you in any way." It had been years since she traveled abroad, with the exception of her being chased away from home. Finally being able to leave, she could barely contain her joy.

"Why do I have to go with him?"

"I decided you must go to Damascus with him because he needs to learn how to communicate better with you. Another argument and we might be cleaning up blood from the both of you. Now go prepare. You will be leaving shortly, and he does not like being held up for anything." Raja didn't waste a moment standing still, and she took off up the stairs to the castle, irrational behavior looked down upon by others. But she didn't care; she was finally getting a chance to escape.

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End of the chapter! How was it? Please review. I count on them to keep me writing!


	5. Random Hearts

Author's Note: Before the story begins again, I'd like to say thank you to those who review my story after reading. It makes a whole world of difference. (Tear drop) Okay, next chapter!

Chapter Five: Random Hearts

"Safety and peace to you, brother," Malik said to Altaïr who was mounting his black steed.

"Safety and peace be with you also, Malik. We ride for Damascus now." Raja lingered in the background, busy braiding her stallion's mane.

'Must departure take so long?' she complained silently. Malik glanced back at her and smiled.

"I believe you are boring her. She was so excited to hear that she was going to Damascus." Altaïr had not yet bothered to look back at her.

"This is no vacation trip. This is a mission," Altaïr stated loud enough for her to hear. She ignored it.

"Not everyone views life the same way as you, Altaïr. Now go; the rafiq will be waiting for you in the bureau when you arrive." He snapped his reigns and the horse took off at a steady trot. Trailing behind him was Raja, not heeding the fact that he was leaving her in the dust.

"Goodbye, Malik."

"Goodbye, Raja." His dark eyes and adorable dimples made her smile. He waved goodbye, then returned to the fortress of assassins. Raja snapped the reigns, bringing her horse to a light gallop to catch up with Altaïr. They rode side by side in silence. Altaïr was not one for small talk. She did manage to steal a few occasional glances at him to see what he was doing. His eyes were always sharp, focused on the road ahead. She sighed loudly, annoyed at the stillness. She started to sing:

"Never did I see

A sea so pretty

Crystal clear and blue

It reminds me of you

The stars cry at night

While I wait in the light

For my love so dear

To take away my fear." She repeated this several times, then hummed the melody that went along with it.

"You have an exceptional singing voice, Raja," he finally spoke. Her eyes were wide in surprise; she had forgotten he was alongside her.

"T-thank you," she said quietly, not knowing how to reply to his kind words. He had never complemented her on anything, or even seemed to appreciate the things she did for him.

If that was supposed to be an apology, I'm not accepting it. What a jerk.

Now cognizant of her surroundings, she halted her singing, and Altaïr curiously glanced over at her, wondering why she'd stopped singing. He didn't bother asking. The rest of the journey through the Kingdom was exactly like the same until they were stabling their horses outside the city gate.

"It's very important that we get in without arousing suspicion. You can get in fairly easily, for you are but a woman." She nodded then turned to ask, "But what about-" She looked around for him. He had disappeared in a flash. She finally noticed him squeezing in between four scholars with their hands clasped together and him following suit. She rolled her eyes.

'As if the guards cannot notice that he's much taller than the rest of them. He even has visible weapons on his back! He will be caught before he can enter.'

Raja anxiously looked on, anticipating what was going to happen next. To her surprise, he was able to walk through undetected.

'Well, I guess I was wrong.' A crowd passing by to go into the city was a great opportunity to sneak in and she mellowed in with them. The guards let them by and she separated off from them and headed northwest, towards the Rich District. To avoid the eyes following her—perhaps because her head nor her face was covered—she disappeared into a dark alley away from the main street. No one was there except for a man in tattered trousers and a turban. She politely tried to squeeze by, but he pushed her hard against the wall. A misplaced brick bruised her back easily.

"Ouch!" she exclaimed. When she raised her hand to hit him, she felt a strong hand hold it back.

"Don't. He is ill-minded," the commanding voice said. Raja immediately stopped resisting and turned around to face Altaïr.

"How did you know I was here?" she asked. He directed his eyes to the rooftops above.

"I've been watching you ever since you entered the city to make sure you didn't get yourself in trouble."

"What would make you say that?" she asked. He raised one of his eyebrows. She put her hand up and sighed, "Never mind."

"We must go back out to the main street. We will not be able to walk the alleys without causing trouble." Raja turned and followed him back into the bright Damascus sun. The streets were particularly busy that day. Merchants were more determined to sell than ever and commoners littered the streets and benches. When she finally noticed the statuesque assassin was no longer in front of her, she frantically looked around. Up ahead, he continued to walk, blending nicely with all the others. She was right behind him once again, this time keeping her eyes on his broad back. The flow of traffic halted briefly and Raja failed to notice.

"Oof!" Her face buried into the material of his clothing and her hands instinctively wrapped around his belted waist. His posture straightened at her touch and he looked over his shoulder with a questioning stare. She immediately let go.

"Sorry," she muttered. The traffic was finally moving again and they continued in the same direction for about ten minutes and then disappeared into a hollowed out building with a ladder leading to the roof.

"The entrance is on the roof. Climb," Altaïr commanded. She sucked her teeth then began ascending the ladder. On the roof was a spade-shaped symbol pointing to a vine-covered sky grate. Raja threw herself over the side, grasping the ledge, then carefully placed her feet on the carved out designs below. She landed safely on the ground without any problems. Altaïr was right behind her, dropping from the roof straight to the ground. Raja scoffed, expressing how unimpressed she was. He walked into a room to the far left side and exchanged greetings with an older man that was tall and grey-haired.

"Who is this?" he asked, a twinkle shining in his eye at seeing the woman. Fearlessly extending her hand she replied for herself, "I'm Raja." Unfamiliar with foreign greetings, he took her hand and kissed it.

"Nice to meet you, Raja. You're a very beautiful young woman." She looked down blushing, and then Altair got down to business.

"Rafiq, please watch over her while I gather information. I will be back in a little while." With that, he exited the room and was up on the roof in seconds.

"So...how is it being with Altaïr?" he asked the girl. The question caught her off guard and she stammered, "U-uh...He's a little antisocial. And bossy. And sort of mean." He chuckled softly, running his hand through his beard.

"That's Altaïr. He's always been that way. He used to be arrogant and impatient when he was younger and boy was he a handful!" Raja grinned sweetly, enjoying his company.

Their conversation continued for hours over tea, lunch, and even a game of chess. After many hours of nonstop socializing, their talking fever finally died down when Raja found herself drifting off to sleep while the rafiq was busy studying maps. It was the moment she fell asleep that Altaïr finally returned from the streets, thoroughly exhausted, carrying the last of his energy in his burning calves.

_Why did there have to be so many guards on duty today? I had to pickpocket ten commoners just to replenish my knives,_ he complained silently.

"I have returned, rafiq." He quickly put a long, thin finger to his mouth. His eyes wandered over to the sleeping form in the chair on the far right side of the room. Raja was sound asleep, her head against the wall in a somewhat uncomfortable position.

"She just fell asleep moments before you arrived. She sure does talk a lot," the older man whispered, leading him into the other room to talk. Little did they know that Raja's eyes were closed but she was attentively listening to every word that they spoke.

"What have you discovered, brother?"

"Hakeem Ibrahim will be in the city synagogue tomorrow at noon. He will be alone with the exception of the guards that will be outside. That is when I will strike."

She gasped quietly as she faded out of their conversation to gather her own thoughts.

'They're going to kill a rabbi? He is a man of God; he has done nothing wrong! I must find a way to stop this before innocent blood is spilled...'

As she started formulating a plan, Altaïr returned to the room and made his way over to her fairly quickly. She sat absolutely still, not daring to move a muscle for fear of giving away her deceitful slumber. Though her eyes were closed, she could sense his being move closer to hers. His hot breaths brushed against her face, and then he finally grabbed her under her knees and back and lifted her into his arms. Raja pretended to stir a little, nuzzling her head against his chest. Now she could hear his heartbeat as if it were right next to her ear. It thumped slowly in a soothing rhythm, coaxing her mind into real sleep.

As she drifted off into her dreams, she felt her shoes slip off her feet and a blanket being pulled over her form. The feet retreated into the other room and she drifted into her dreams.

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Yet another corny ending! The next chapter will be full of some stuff that will make this T for a reason.


	6. A Lot Like Death

Author's Note: For those who have been reviewing after reading, thank you very much. Because of your support, I continue to keep writing. Next chapter!

Chapter Six: A Lot Like Death

Raja's sleep was unfortunately interrupted by Altaïr's heavy breathing just before sunrise. His exhales blew through her hair and against her neck, sending chills up her spine. At first she thought it was a breeze from the window, but when she turned, she nearly screamed at the sight in front of her. Altaïr's hood was removed and the moonlight projected a scary, twisted look on his frowning face. She was tempted to push his face away, but the candle light eventually reached his features and eased her mind.

'Despite his rough attitude, he's a very handsome man...' she thought. His nose was perfectly formed, straight and without any signs of ever being broken. He had a light moustache and an adorably stubbled chin that complemented his bow-shaped lips.

She suddenly felt a strong attraction to him after she fought so long and hard to not find him even the slightest bit appealing. To keep herself under control, Raja tore her eyes away from his virile face and turned back around to force herself back to sleep. But here she found herself wondering if he ever had someone special. What would she look like? Her attitude? Her intelligence?

'She would probably be the ideal submissive woman. She'd probably have impressive breast, short legs, and no brains at all.' She pictured the woman in her head, who wasn't actually half bad looking.

Then she put herself next to her in comparison. Raja was quite tall, only a few inches shorter than Altaïr. She had _enough_ breasts to get by, but she had a figure that a man would look twice at. Plus, she was very smart, thanks to her father. Taking all of this into account, she was nearly ineligible to be married to any man in the Kingdom. Most preferred women with very little resistance to authority who looked to bear healthy children. Raja like being single and all its advantages: no man telling her what to do, what to wear, what to say, or having the obligation to fulfill the desires of a husband. And she most certainly did not appreciate being beaten.

'Maybe it's just best if I stay single and become an old maid. I'm not fit to be a bride, nor a wife, nor a mother.'

Raja finally began to tire out after meditating on these things after a while and she fell asleep as the sun began to rise over the horizon.

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When she finally woke again, warm smells came from the other room, rousing her from her spot on the padded floor. She didn't take the time to notice that Altaïr was not in the empty space behind her.

"Good morning, my dear. How did you sleep?" rafiq asked, handing her a delicious-looking plate full of food.

"Fine. She looked back, expecting to see Altaïr drift through the door, but he was nowhere in sight. It was then she remembered what she planned to do.

_...will be alone at noon. That is when I will strike. _Altaïr's words repeated in her mind and she wasted no time sitting, grabbing her shoes in the corner and heading for the roof.

"Raja, where are you going?" he asked, concerned about the young woman's sudden rush.

"I must find Altaïr!" she replied, gracefully leaping back out onto the roof. The sun was nearly in the middle of the sky, and she had no time to waste. The streets were yet again crowded and the only other alternative was the rooftops. She only tried to roof hop once or twice back home, and she was pretty good, but it was too dangerous for her then when she was but a child.

'It's been a while since I've done this. I may hurt myself or even die, but it's worth a shot. I must stop Altaïr before he kills an innocent man.'

She took a moment to exhale slowly, then started running as she breathed in. The edge rushed up at her and she jumped with perfect timing and landed on the next rooftop. Her ankles tingled painfully at the impact, but she enjoyed the rush of the wind in her hair and her stomach dancing as she fell. Taking no time to enjoy this, she kept leaping from rooftop to rooftop with ease, hoping she wouldn't get there too late.

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With the mosque in his sights, Altaïr silently ended an unsuspecting guard's life and watched as he slumped to the floor and the other guards came over to inspect. As he made his way in, the guards yelled out, "Who's responsible for this?" They unsheathed their swords and returned to their positions, unaware that a white shadow crept past them.

He smiled to himself and took note of the guards standing around the entrance of the mosque. They appeared to be lethargic and bored, looking at the ground aimlessly and kicking at the dirt.

_Unsuspecting fools._ He clasped his hands together as if in prayer and walked past them without catching their attention. Inside the beautifully decorated place of worship were a few priests here and there repeating a prayer in unison, creating a scary monotonous tone that echoed through the empty hallways. A case of stairs whirled around to the upper level, where Hakeem unknowingly awaited his demise in the building right across from the synagogue. Stealthily, Altaïr made his way up the stairs to a long hallway that led to the lone room at the end of the corridor.

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Raja didn't know how she did it, but she managed to sneak by the guards unnoticed into the courtyard around the mosque. She scanned the scarce crowds with her honey eyes, looking for a gloomy figure in white, but found none.

'He's probably already inside. What should I do?'

She looked around everywhere, looking for a window, a secret entrance, or anything to get in without being stopped for questioning. Time was running out and she needed to think quickly. Then Raja found her way in—a tall tree planted right by the second story window. Without trying to rouse suspicion, she half-walked, half-ran towards it. As soon as she touched the rough bark of the tree, she started to climb, reaching for a sturdy branch and surely gaining altitude. No one saw her climbing the tree with cat-like reflexes and she was actually impressed with herself.

She was able to outrun experienced Templars, beat up drunken men and assassins, run across rooftops, and now she was climbing a tree like the cats in her homeland.

'I need a pat on the back after this...'she thought, finally within reach of the window. Thankfully, it was wide open and she could easily jump through to the inside. Her hands burned from grasping such dry wood and they continued to burn after she held onto the windowsill with all her might, hoping she wouldn't fall to the ground far below her feet. Sweat dripped down her face and caused her clothes to stick to her body. She pulled herself over and into the airy, cool mosque. But Raja couldn't rest until she stopped the assassin from killing Hakeem.

Thinking they were downstairs, she peered over the edge carefully, so as to not be seen by the guards. Hakeem was not downstairs and there was only one way to go: down the long hallway to the only room in the building. She ran no matter how much her muscles screamed for a moment's reprieve. When she finally arrived, she stumbled upon a startling sight.

There was Hakeem, standing at his desk, with no Altaïr lurking in the shadows. He turned around after hearing her surprised gasp and asked, "What's wrong my child?" She was so tired she couldn't speak a word as she even struggled to breathe. Glancing over the elderly man's shoulder, she noticed the ghostly figure standing on the balcony just a hundred feet away.

Everything from that moment on seemed to happen in slow motion. Raja saw Altaïr take one of his daggers from its sheath and hurl it towards the old man with just a snap of his wrist. It sped through the air with deadly accuracy and without thinking she shielded the old man from his demise with her back. As it ripped through her clothing, she could feel it tear her skin, disturb the flow of her blood and cut the veins coursing through her body. She tensed up, feeling no pain at all. Just numb recognition of a foreign object entering her body. Raja saw the priest go for her as she fell, but he was soon met by death, only its handle protruding from his chest.

Hakeem slumped to the earth without a single noise, and passed away, eyes wide in shock. Altaïr made sure he wouldn't return to the bureau without having completed his task.

Raja was having an out-of-body experience—spectating as she felt her body rise from the ground and desperately try to run down the hall, away from the dead man lying in his own blood.

Now she was acting on instinct, letting her senses guide her away from the holy place defiled by a cold-blooded murderer. The one who she was beginning to grow accustomed to. Altaïr.

Raja seemed to run for hours, her legs never giving up on her until she was on a rooftop far away from the bells that were now ringing loud in her ears. Staying hidden by a pillar, she collapsed next to it, closing her eyes, her vision fading into darkness.

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Oh no! Did Raja die? We will see in the next chapter.


	7. Bandages

A/N: I hope everyone liked the way the last one ended. It may seem a little impossible for a girl to be capable of so much, but hey! We are just as capable as men, especially when the going gets tough. (Flexes muscles.) Okay…Next chapter!

Chapter Seven: Bandages

Heaven wasn't supposed to be this dark, nor this empty. There were no angels of light around, only darkness. Raja was all alone here. Then Hakeem appeared a little ways away. He was standing by his desk exactly the way he was when Altaïr attempted to kill him. She saw herself pushing the blue-robed man out of the way and taking the dagger to the back. This moment repeated itself over and over again, each time a new pool of blood spreading across the floor.

"No. No, no, no, no, no! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" she screamed, shattering the image before her and there stood Altaïr, but he was clad in black and his robes hung off of his unusually bony body. His hands were covered in blood and his eyes were solid black, like two pools of an endless abyss. His skin was no longer tanned, but was deathly pale. He was Death himself, coming to claim her as one of the countless souls he had already taken. He floated through the air and she couldn't run away from his approaching form no matter how hard she tried.

"Get away from me!" she screamed in horror, trying to keep his cold, bony hands away from her. His hands wrapped around her neck and she felt the nerves in her skin die underneath his touch. Soon she was just a withered corpse and he threw her to the ground, where her body burst into ash and scattered across the floor like chaff in the wind.

"No, no, no," she mumbled outside of her sleep, her head moving side to side. The rafiq, who was very much worried about her condition, looked on as he saw Raja struggle in her slumber.

'Poor child,' he thought, rising from the chair to wipe her sweaty forehead.

'She's been like this for several hours now. Her fever has not yet subsided.' Her clammy hand grasped the blanket tightly as she lay in pain. Altaïr had returned to the outside world to finish his last investigation of a matter concerning a Veteran Assassin. The rafiq turned her over onto her stomach to check her bandaged back. The wound was still bleeding through the cloth, which troubled the elderly man deeply.

'If this child dies, I don't know what I'd do. Maybe if I was better at tending to wounds, she wouldn't be in so much pain...' He sat back down in the chair, nervously twirling his fingers. Then he heard a soft thump and approaching feet. In the doorway stood the white-robed assassin who looked on the situation with furrowed brows.

"What has happened here?" he asked, his voice rising above the normal growling pitch. The rafiq stood, towering over the younger man and said, "I found her on the rooftop unconscious and bleeding. When my eyes fell upon the blade, I immediately knew that it belonged to an assassin." He glared at Altaïr with an accusing stare. Then he remembered the person who defended Hakeem from the first dagger. The room was somewhat dark, making it hard to make out who it was, so he had assumed that it was a guard.

"You tried to kill her, didn't you?" he asked, anger ringing in his every word like a demanding father.

"I assumed she was a guard. I had no idea she was going to follow me. What she did was foolish and only complicated things, Abdul."

"Well, you are still fully responsible for her life and she won't stop bleeding. I've done all I can; the rest is up to you." His honey-colored eyes stared into the tired old man's and he put a hand on his shoulder.

"You should rest for now." Abdul returned to his position behind the counter, trying to busy himself with maps. Once they were alone, Altaïr turned his attention to Raja.

After being in a brief trance, he returned to reality and turned her onto her back and started loosening the bandages.

He left her such a nasty wound that would unfortunately scar her skin after it healed, a reminder of his mistake. Altaïr never made mistakes.

There were a few vials of healing potion left in his pouch, so he decided to use those. Carefully, he poured the clear liquid into the open gash and watched it sizzle.

_Abdul did such a bad job..._he thought. The bleeding finally died down tremendously and he wrapped fresh bandages around her quickly.

"No, no..." she mumbled as he turned her over. Raja exhaled noisily and pulled the blanket over herself. He turned his back to her, readying himself to go back into the city, until he heard her say his name.

"Altaïr...No..." A worried look was on her face as she spoke. Altaïr then gently touched her cheek to calm her down and she moved closer to him at his touch. He drew back, startled by her behavior, then leapt back up to the roof and into Damascus.

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Several hours later, Raja stirred out of her sleep with blurred vision. She blinked a few times and the moon above her came more into focus. She sighed, this time with no agitation to her wound, and then attempted to turn over, but something hard blocked her body.

"So you're finally awake," a soft voice from the darkness said. It came from whoever she was laying near, the breath pushing through her hair. Though she already knew the answer, she asked, "Altaïr?"

"Yes?" he replied. Her temperature rose drastically. She had never been this close to a man before, let alone laying _right next _to one. It wasn't until this moment that she noticed his heavy hand was on her waist.

'He must be getting some kind of sick enjoyment out of this...'

"Why is it that we are so near one another?"

"Would you prefer if I were far away?" he asked.

"Actually yes. You're crowding me," she snapped back.

"Your body temperature dropped very soon after I redressed your wounds. There is no insulation in here, so I had to use my body heat to keep you warm."

"Oh," she replied quietly. His hand moved up from her waist and gently set her on her back.

"Why were you at the mosque earlier today?" he growled, angry at her and himself. It took a moment for her to register his question.

"Because you killed an innocent man." The invisible authority in the air was almost vice-like.

"Hakeem was not innocent. He was in league with the Templar's Remnant."

"He was still a man of God. You will burn in hell for what you did," she said through gritted teeth.

"And so will he. The Assassins kill only to bring peace to the world."

"That only depends on the individual's point of view. I don't see the world the way you do." He remained silent for a moment, and then let her go. She sat up, watching the white-robed assassin disappear to the roof.

'When he hesitated, I thought he was going to kill me for speaking back to him.'She stood, stumbled a little then regained her balance and searched for a candle. The sun was long gone and would be until morning. Raja tripped over a table hidden by the darkness and sent a vase shattering to the ground.

"If you are looking for a candle, you could have told me," an elderly voice said. She spun around, alarmed.

"Rafiq?" she asked aloud. A few seconds later, he lit a candle and illuminated his face that looked ghastly with all its wrinkles and creases.

"Are you all right? I heard every word of your conversation with Altaïr, although I shouldn't have." She looked down and rubbed her arm.

"He's very upset with me right now. I almost cost him his task earlier today," she said, her voice monotonous and dull.

"He just doesn't understand you. The Creed is a very different way of life, you see. We kill to make the world a better place, so of course killing is a victory in his eyes while it's murder in yours. Besides, he hates making mistakes and you got in the way. You shouldn't have even been there; none of this would have happened."

'He's taking sides with Altaïr! And here I thought he was my friend!'She crossed her arms on her chest.

"I couldn't stand there and do nothing." He gave out an ancient chuckle and rested his palm on her shoulder.

"I'll never understand young people. Maybe you should just go talk to him. He knows more about himself than I do." The old man disappeared to his room and left Raja alone to confront Altaïr who was on the roof doing who knows what. She took a deep breath in and climbed up the ladder to confront the assassin.

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Another cliffie! Not much revision this time if anyone noticed. Rereview and tell me what you think, okay?


	8. Turn of the Tide

A/N: OK, I know I promised intense plot twisters and they will come soon. Next chapter!

Chapter 8: Turn of the Tide

The warm night air blew against Raja's face as she made her way up the ladder. She was climbing slowly, trying to make sense of what she was going to say in her head.

She didn't know whether to make it sound like an apology or another argument; either way Altaïr wouldn't listen to what she had to say. So it was best for her to be the peacemaker, since he would not.

He was leaning against the brick pillar and looking up at the stars from underneath his hood. With his acute senses, he heard her approaching footsteps.

"You must go back inside and rest. Your wound is not yet fully healed," his cool voice said. She stopped in her tracks for a moment, and then continued walking forward. Her light blanket blew in the wind behind her, threatening to fly away and reveal her bandaged torso to him.

"I don't care. I came to speak to you, Altaïr," she replied, softening her voice.

"Why do you need to speak to me? You've expressed your opinion well enough." He stood up straight, getting ready to leave until she firmly grabbed his hand and turned him around, no longer caring that her blanket was swept off her shoulders. Altaïr glanced down quickly then returned his gaze to her face, cold, unfeeling eyes focused on hers that shone so brightly in the moonlight.

"I wanted to say that...I'm sorry. I failed to understand why you had to kill that man and now that I know, I'm sorry for getting in your way. That was irrational of me," Raja said quietly. She held her hands in front of her tightly and bit her lip as she looked away.

"Think nothing of it now. It's in the past," he stated before leaning back against the pillar, never looking her way. Perhaps that was the way he accepted apologies. With the problem solved, Raja returned to the bureau to get some rest. The wound was burning like a wildfire.

Now that she was gone, the assassin in white took to the rooftops in the night.

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Birds chirping overhead and excited chatter from the streets rang in Raja's ears until she opened her eyes to the morning sun. It warmly greeted her in the same manner every day before this one. She put a hand to her swimming head, trying to recall last night's events.

'I remember going to the roof to speak with Altaïr and he accepted my apology, as strange as that sounded last night. Does this mean he doesn't want to kill me anymore?'she thought. Altaïr was nowhere to be found. Abdul could be heard rummaging through his belongings nervously. He seemed to be in a hurry.

"Abdul, where is Altaïr?" she asked from the other room, rousing herself from the floor. He was too busy throwing papers around in search for something for him to hear her.

"Abdul, where is Altaïr?" she pleaded, grabbing hold of his shoulders to break him out of his frenzy. His eyes looked wild for a moment, then calmed after he saw her eyes. He put a wrinkled hand to his face and sighed heavily.

"What's wrong?" she asked softly, searching his face for an answer.

"One of the Creed's greatest assassins has been caught. There is no way for me to get him back from the prison." She sat back, stunned.

'Altaïr...has been...captured?'

"How has this happened?" she asked.

"Somehow, they knew where he was going to enter the palace and exactly at what time. He had no chance to escape without a doubt. That boy will never be able to get out." Raja stared hard at the ground as if looking for the answer in the tiled floors. With new found determination, she spoke up.

"I will save him." Abdul looked into her eyes, not finding the smallest hint of doubt or fear in them.

"Raja, it will be dangerous for you to try to do something like this. If the guards find out what you're up to, they'll take you away and who knows what will happen after that. Then both you and Altaïr would be caught and we'd be nowhere because I am far too old to do anything."

"Then stay here and let me do it. I know I will get him out of there." The elderly man still looked unsure, doubt hiding in his wrinkled face.

"Alright. But you must go to Farakhan. He is an assassin also. He will help you find the prison. From that point on, you'll be on your own." She nodded once, and then hesitated to move. Abdul hugged her close as if he were holding his own daughter in his hands.

"Be careful, young one."

"I will, Abdul. And thank you." At that they broke away from each other and soon Raja was leaping across rooftops like the man she was going to save.

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_I can't believe I let myself get captured by mere guards. But I sense foul play in this. Who was it that informed me of the Nobleman's whereabouts?...It was Farouq! That deceitful bastard will pay once I get out of here!_

Altaïr was chained to a wall in a room that had no other prisoners. The walls were recently constructed and the metal that bound him to its confines was freshly brandished. He planned to get out of there before they even had the chance to lash him once. Loud footsteps approached slowly until a tall, broad man entered into his cell.

"So, you thought you could sneak your way into the palace without getting captured, eh? Well, assassin, your plan didn't work out as well as you thought it would and here you are. If you want your punishment to be a little less painful, tell me who you are." He waited for him to reply, but the proud assassin said nothing. The man gritted his teeth and then slapped him across his face, drawing blood. Altaïr spit the mix of blood and saliva to the floor.

"I will tell you nothing," he said in defiance.

"For every moment you make me wait, I lash your back with this whip." This time, the man lifted Altaïr's head up by his matted hair and forced him to look him in the eyes.

"Now tell me, who are you?" Altaïr spit in his face and the man drew back, thoroughly disgusted.

"You insolent child!" He punched Altaïr this time, leaving a clean cut on his cheek from the edge of his ring. No screams of pain or anguish came from him. Just as the big man was going to hit him again, a guard called him away for a moment.

"I will deal with you when I get back," he said devilishly. Closing the door behind him, he asked the guard, "What is it?"

"Tauraj, the informant has told us that the Templar's daughter is here in the city. Apparently, the assassin we have now is holding her captive somewhere in the Middle District. She was last seen talking with a man in white robes, like the captive. I believe he is an assassin, also." Tauraj raked his hand through his thick beard in deep thought.

"The ex-Templar's daughter is here in Jerusalem," he mused, "She supposedly died when my brothers destroyed the traitor's home, but I guess she's still alive. See to it that she comes to me unharmed."

"But sir, she seems to be...an ally of the assassins. Shouldn't we kill her?"

"No, don't do anything drastic. I have an idea." The guard shouted something in unintelligible Arabic and several others sitting around got up from their positions and followed the guard out the door.

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"There are guards at each end of the corridors, so it will be nearly impossible to get in without being seen. I will do what I can to help you from outside," Farakhan said, his sharp green eyes boring holes in Raja's. The sun was setting and the street life was finally starting to die down. Very few merchants had their items on display. A little boy knocked down an expensive-looking glass pane, getting everyone's attention.

"Thank you very-" Raja turned back around, and the assassin was nowhere in sight.

'How can they do that so fast?'she thought, looking at the rooftops above and finally catching a quick glimpse of a white robed man heading north. 'I guess I must follow him_.'_ When Raja took a step forward, she bumped into a man's chest, not recognizing him as a guard.

"I'm sorry sir," she said quietly, shying her eyes away from his face.

"You must come with me, Templar's Daughter," he said just above a whisper. Her eyes grew wide and she found it hard to breathe. Somehow the guard knew who she was and would probably take her to the Templars to be done away with. _Permanently._

As if to read her mind, he assured, "There's no need for alarm. Just come with me back to the prison house. Tauraj wants to meet you." A wave of relief overcame her—she was not in trouble and they were taking her directly where she wanted to go in the first place.

But who was Tauraj?...

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Read and review please!


	9. The Rescue

A/N: I'm guessing my readers aren't satisfied with the plot twist. -_- But trust me, it will get better! Next chapter!

Chapter Nine: The Rescue

By the time Raja and the guards arrived at the prison house, it was dark out and there wasn't a person in sight on the streets. She gulped heavily. Altaïr needed her help and she was willing to give it. Over the few weeks they were together, she could call him a friend.

'I will find him and we will get out of here.'

"Right this way." The guard led her up some stairs and into a brightly lit room where a tall, broad man stood over his desk, examining the gauntlet that was once around Altaïr's forearm. She gasped silently, knowing its possessor. His other weapons were displayed on the table as well: daggers, a sword, small throwing knives, and even some arrows.

"Who knew one person could carry so many things at once?" he asked aloud, then raised his hand to dismiss the guards. They left without hesitation, leaving Raja all alone with this corpulent man. She stood near the door, ready to leave if he tried anything funny. When he turned around to face her, she discovered he was not as ugly as she thought he would be. His eyes were deep gray like cool metal, and his features were distinct and sharp, like a carved mask.

"So you are Raja, daughter of a Templar. Who knew you'd be so beautiful?" He walked toward her slowly in a fluid motion. It was as if he were floating over to her and before she knew it, he was in her face.

"Yes, that's me," she ensured with confidence. She extended her hand and he looked down at it as if it were diseased.

"You must be from another country to have such a strange way to greet people." He took her hand and kissed it, his fleshy lips sticking to her skin. She grimaced at the feeling, trying her best not to show her disgust. He returned to his place behind his desk and placed his hands behind his back.

"So, you have been a captive of the Assassins for the past month?" She nodded.

"Have they done anything to you?" She shook her head like a child.

"They've actually treated me quite well since my capture." He frowned at her response.

"Well, there is no need to worry about being with them anymore. You can stay here in Jerusalem under the care of the elderly women of the palace. You will never have to see those filthy assassins again," he assured her.

"Thank you," she replied, bowing to hide her rolling eyes. When she stood erect, he was right in front of her again, his hand holding her chin soon after.

"Or you could choose to stay with me. I'm a young man seeking a wife," his voice purred, his eyes soft and transparent. He kissed her gently, hoping she'd return his embrace. Raja reciprocated his action as she ran her hands through his wavy hair. His body began to push against hers, making her fall back against the wooden desk.

'Oh no,'she thought. His left hand traced her waistline and then grabbed her thigh as he crushed her against the desk. He felt as heavy as an elephant, her poor, small frame bearing all his weight. She almost had to stop kissing him to breathe. His hand moved under her dress, up towards her undergarments. Alarms instantly went off in her head.

"Wait," she whispered in between kisses. He ignored her small pleas and continued kissing her neck and chest. Without knowing his strength, Tauraj ripped the seams that snaked up her sides, exposing her legs.

"I will make you mine," he growled, overgrown nails scratching her thigh.

"Aah!" she screamed at the pain. As he readied himself, she searched for something, anything to make him stop before he went too far. Her hand scraped the desk noisily as she reached for the stone statue on the edge. As she reached for it, she felt her skirts lift and sweat came pouring from her forehead. Finally, she grabbed a hold of it and brought it down hard on his head. His eyes glossed over and rolled into the back of his head as he collapsed on top of her.

Raja threw him off of her and searched desperately for the keys to the cells.

'That was too close. He was moments away from taking the most precious thing from me. I will never let that happen again.'

The keys were attached to his belt and she ripped them away from his body. She grabbed Altaïr's weapons off the floor, and ran down the stairs.

The prison was completely devoid of life when Raja arrived there from across the bridge. There wasn't a single guard, and that's when she looked up and saw the white clad man on the adjacent roof. His eyes shone with the moon as he nodded to her and then jumped off, out of her sights. Her heart beat thudded loudly in her chest.

Most of them were full of petty criminals half asleep and mumbling to themselves. No sign of Altaïr in any of them. She began to worry, thinking she had the wrong prison, until she caught a glimpse of white through a small slit in a door a few feet in front of her.

Raja ran with all her might to get there as fast as she could and unlocked the door. She could've burst with joy when she saw he was alive and well.

"Altaïr," she said, relieved. He looked up, searching through the darkness for her.

"Raja?" he asked. Her heart nearly skipped a beat when she heard him speak her name for the first time. She jogged to him and unlocked the chains. He clenched her wrist firmly, making her look directly into his eyes. They burned with unreadable vigor, and there was no time to discern. She pulled away from him to hand him his beloved weapons. He readily took them and within moments was a lethal assassin of Masyaf once again.

"We must go now if we are not to be detected," he said. She nodded and they took off back down the long, dark hallway and into the night unnoticed.

Tauraj awoke some time later, not remembering a thing that happened. He looked around the room and saw the broken statue lying on the floor. He looked down and noticed his pants were undone and quickly tied them back around his waist.

'What was I doing?' he asked himself.

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The pair finally reached the bureau two hours before sunrise, and Abdul anxiously awaited them, once again studying old maps, his eyes moving left and right aimlessly.

"Abdul, we have returned," she announced proudly. His head lifted up and a wide smile erupted on his face.

"Altaïr, you have returned. Without this young lady's help, you'd still be in that horrible place. Raja, I apologize for not confiding in you. Thank you." He bowed low and she smiled nervously.

"Now that you are back safe and sound, I will take my leave and retire for the rest of the night." Abdul left the two alone once again and she hurried into the familiar room she had been sleeping in for the past few days. Altair followed her.

"Is something the matter?" he asked her. Raja stopped, turned around and slapped him hard across the face. He turned back to her bewildered, holding his cheek in disbelief.

"Don't ever get caught again!" she yelled, tears streaming from her eyes as she turned her face away from his sight. Altaïr noticed the three tears in the skin on her thigh that were slightly irritated and bleeding.

"What happened to you?" he asked, a small glint of concern shining in his eyes. Raja turned back around to face him.

"That man...Tauraj. He almost…." Her lips trembled. He moved towards her, gloved hand outstretched, but she backed away.

"I-I thought I was ready to do it, but I was afraid because it didn't feel right. He was rough with me and—" She couldn't even finish her sentence as she recalled that traumatic experience. Altaïr held her by her shoulders and set her down on the pillows. He grabbed some gauze from one of his pouches, dipped them in the blue liquid, and then pressed them against the scratches. Raja winced at the burning sensation.

"Forgive me for not being there to help you," he spoke, the vibration from his deep voice tingling her senses. She stopped crying for a moment to look up at him, gazing into his deep brown eyes. His focus was on her for quite a long time before he resumed dressing her cuts.

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End of chapter! Read and review please! For those who do, thank you very much! Merci! Arigato! Shukran! Gracias! C U next time! ^_^


	10. Warm Feelings

A/N: I'm sorry to inform my loyal readers, but this story will only last a few more chapters. If anyone has any good plot starters, just write it in your review. Next chapter!

Chapter Ten: Warm Feelings

'I've never seen him so tranquil-looking before. Usually his eyes are trying to destroy everyone he looks at.'

"And to think that we didn't like each other a few weeks before," she whispered. A low rumble of a laugh came up from Altaïr's throat.

"I was sure you would try to kill me," he said.

"I'd try and succeed," she replied. Altaïr finished dressing the wound and put the remaining gauze back in his pouch. As he turned, the wind blew her heavily scented perfume, invading his nostrils with a smell he'd never forget. It consisted of lilacs and honey, innocence and delicacy, the way a woman was supposed to smell.

"Thank you, Altaïr." He said nothing as he got up to rearrange the pillows into the appropriate position, readying himself for sleep. Not one for small talk.

"Perhaps we should talk a little, Altaïr," she suggested, laying back onto a pillow, careful not to agitate her wound.

"Perhaps we should not. It's late," he shot back. Raja tried again.

"Well, _I'll_talk, then. Malik told me what happened between you two. The story actually touched me. Really. It takes a lot to forgive someone for taking the life of their brother. And losing a limb, which disabled him from being an assassin."

"That matter is none of your business, woman. Now be quiet and go to sleep," he growled. She sat up, glaring at him for tongue-lashing her.

She took flight to the ladder to the outside where Altaïr wasn't. She looked behind her as she distanced herself from the bureau and concluded that he wasn't going to follow her.

'Idiot_,_' she thought, hating herself for trying to out talk someone with as such a fiery tongue as Altaïr. Every time she tried to fight him with words, he always won. Usually she came out victorious. The sea of rooftops finally ended and she jumped down, wanting to continue running away, but bumped into a large back that sent her to her bottom.

"Ow!" she exclaimed, rubbing her hip.

"What have we here?" an all too familiar voice asked, lifting her from the ground with one very large hand. Raja's eyes were wide with fear, staring into the dead, steel-grey eyes of Tauraj.

"So...we meet again, Templar's Daughter. Last time you were fortunate I did not know of your antics. You managed to escape with my captured assassin, but he will not be free long because Farouq, one of his brothers, has done a wonderful job of keeping me informed of his whereabouts. When I find your little friend, I will see to it that his death will be long and painful," he growled.

"He will escape Jerusalem and kill you if you get in his way," she snapped back defiantly, just to see his face turn up in fear and disgust.

"That will never happen," he spat. He still had a tight grip of her clothing, confining her to his odor. An owl flew overhead silently to the north and circled above a section of buildings until it eventually landed out of sight. Her focus returned to Tauraj and the other guards.

"What are you going to do to me?" she asked, voice trembling.

"We'll let the Templars decide. It appears your father is a traitor, turning his back on the Remnant is punishable only by death, so they will dispose of you in their own way. But first, I'd like for you to see what I'm going to do to your assassin friends in their little bureau." He half-dragged her back to where she started, in front of the ladder hidden by the dark.

"Climb up and tell the assassin you have returned. If you don't obey, I'll make every day of your life miserable." Silently, she obeyed, taking them one at a time. Obviously, Altaïr heard them because he was on the roof almost immediately.

"Woman, why did you leave? The streets are not safe at night." She looked down in shame and self-spite.

"Tauraj...has found the bureau. He is waiting down the ladder for you," she said quietly. His expression grew cold as he furrowed his eyebrows in frustration.

"My suspicions were correct."

"No, Altair, I'm not-"

"I have no time for your lies, woman. I have more important things to tend to." His words stung like needles in her heart. She followed him down the ladder to meet Tauraj, who was starting to grow impatient.

"Ah! Here we are. Templar's Daughter, you have proven to be a good spy for the Remnant. You will be rewarded greatly for your efforts." She gasped, not believing the lies coming out of his mouth. She wanted to choke the life out of him.

"That's a lie! Altaïr, don't believe him!" she begged, forgetting she must never utter an assassin's name except in privacy.

"So _you_are Altaïr Ibn L'Ahad. You have killed many great men. I believe it was ten Templars you killed about a year ago. I must say I'm impressed, but now you will pay for killing holy knights of God." He signaled to his guards, giving them permission to unsheathe their swords. As Altaïr unsheathed his, she tried to run to him, but was held back by Tauraj, who looked on happily.

"You cannot slay ten men by yourself. It is suicide to even try." Altaïr stood unfazed by his taunt. One guard lunged forward from behind, and with all quickness, he moved his body out of the way and cut him clean across the chest, staining his sword red. Another braved towards him and he ran him through on his sword. Two more jumped at him at the same time and Altaïr ducked underneath their blades, the both of them slitting each other's throats. He moved as if in a sophisticated dance, never breaking his flow of movement.

It was a traumatizing and gruesome slaughter happening before Raja's eyes. She would never forget these images of blood spilling into the streets and men's lifeless corpses resting in it, eyes widened and still.

And the disturbing, stoic expression on Altaïr's face. His eyes remained eerily calm as he cut through the men one by one like raw meat in the butchery.

Tauraj's smile faded inch by inch until it was a complete frown of rage.

"You little...Guards!" he called out into the greying sky. It was almost sunrise. Black figures came out from the shadows of the roof gardens, holding arrows steady in their bows.

"If you dare strike another down, my archers will fill you with arrows." Altaïr moved towards him and Tauraj signaled them to shoot, but Raja interfered, screaming, "Wait!" All movement stopped and everyone's focus was on her.

"Don't kill him, please. You have me, the traitor's daughter. I am worth more to you than he is. I will do anything you want me to." Tauraj looked from her to Altaïr, then back to the girl again.

"Fine. But I never want to see another assassin in Jerusalem again. If I do, it is _you_, Altaïr, that I will come looking for in Masyaf." Raja turned to Altaïr and reached out to him, but he turned his back on her.

"Your petty heroics were unnecessary to save my life." The whole world could have heard her heart shatter into a million pieces. Altaïr walked towards the ladder to return to the bureau. Tauraj laughed at their scene.

"An assassin knows nothing about a woman and her needs. They are snakes, deceitful and cunning in their ways." He grabbed her arm and jerked her south towards the gate leading to the Kingdom.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked.

"I'm taking you to the Remnant Sanctuary to let the Templars deal with you. I've heard a lot about you, Templar Child."

"I have a name. You've spoken it before," she mumbled, her spirit crushed.

"Well, Raja, if it were up to me, you'd be my wife before sunset of this day." It was as if he was trying to make her feel better about her situation; it certainly wasn't working. He was actually making it worse, Raja having to imagine this large man on top of her every night. She nearly vomited, thinking how horrible it would be to have to succumb to a man's every beckon and call.

As he rambled on thoughtlessly, she thought, 'I'd rather be with the Templars a million years than be stuck with this dumb brute.'

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It was a little after six when Abdul finally decided to wake up and rejoin Altaïr, who was not yet asleep.

"I heard a lot of commotion earlier. Where's Raja?" he asked, letting a large yawn escape his body as he stretched.

"She's no longer here. The Templars have her," the young assassin spoke, words cold and unfeeling.

"Aren't you going to rescue her? She was running from them, wasn't she?"

"The Templars and I have our vendetta, but she's no part of it. Her father betrayed them, not I." Abdul sat in his armchair, thinking hard.

"You shouldn't let the woman you love be taken away from you so easily, Altaïr. She saved your life." He glared at the old man for making such an outrageous assumption.

"I don't love her."

"I know that after years of being alone, you desire a companion. You're a young man wanting what's normal. Instead of hiding how you feel about her, you should tell her how you feel." Gritting his teeth, Altaïr stood up, knocking the chair to the floor.

"It's time for me to return to Masyaf. Speak nothing of this ever again, Abdul," he growled. Abdul smiled warmly.

"What's so damn funny?"

"You are blushing and do not realize it." He hurriedly turned away.

"Safety and peace, Abdul," he said quickly, going for the ladder.

"Safety and peace to you, Brother," Abdul said through uncontainable laughter.

Yes, the moment was humorous, but it was already too late for him to confess his feelings—if he had any for her, for she was already leaving the country to an unknown destination in the Kingdom to meet her enemy: the Templar Remnant.

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Alright another changed chapter! The romance parts have disappeared! Where did they go? Out the window! Review this chapter for me, please!


	11. Templar Trials

A/N: This is the point in this story where things start to get a little serious and a little mushy, in that order. But it won't be overly fluffy. Next chapter!

Chapter Eleven: Templar Trials

The long ride from Jerusalem to the coast was short but very unsettling. Raja enjoyed having polite conversation, but Tauraj talked _too_much, mainly about himself the whole way. The only time his mouth was shut was when he was napping, which was almost never. The air was hot and it made her throat dry, no matter how many times she swallowed to quench her thirst. Tauraj offered her water, but she'd rather die first than put her lips on the same skin bottle that he did. It was almost like that disgusting kiss he gave her all over again.

The 'hideout' for the Templars Remnant was an abandoned castle covered in overgrown vines. It looked ominous against the darkening sky, as if lost souls inhabited its halls. But there were plenty of people around, carrying out normal duties. Perhaps followers of the remaining Templars.

"Off the horse and inside you go," Tauraj instructed, helping her dismount the horse.

"Aren't you coming with me?" she asked. He looked as if she spoke nonsense.

"I have no dealings with the Templars Remnant. And I'm not your bodyguard. This is where we say farewell for forever." He looked a little sad, but Raja was delighted to know she would never see him again.

"I'm sure you'll find someone that is twice as beautiful as I am soon. You'll forget me as soon as you fall in love," Raja said.

'The easier it will be for him to leave already!'she thought, wanting to put him on the horse herself. He hesitated as if he wanted to say something, then finally spoke, "Forgive me for acting so lecherously on our first encounter. I mistook you for a whore, with the way you were dressed." She gasped, her eyebrows furrowed in anger.

"The nerve...You ruffian! You scoundrel! You dog! Get away from me!" she yelled, hitting on his large biceps as he walked away, laughing to himself. He got on the horse. As he trotted away, he called back to her, "Whoever marries you is in for a handful!" She gripped her skirts tight, ready to burst with rage. But instead, she ignored his teasing and entered the castle.

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"Ah! Altaïr, you have returned. Where is Raja?" Malik asked. The mention of her name made the assassin stop in his tracks.

"She is no longer in my care. She has been taken by the Templars—the people she comes from," he replied flatly.

"Then your suspicions were right, my friend. Perhaps she was a spy, but yet, you were liking her from the start." Altaïr turned on his heel, pointing his finger at his friend.

"If you wish to keep your tongue, you will close your mouth. Raja meant nothing to me." Malik's eyebrows raised.

"Raja, is it? As I recall, you always referred to her as 'woman' or 'her'. When did you start using her name?" he asked. The agitated man turned away.

"That's none of your damn business," he mumbled, then headed up the stairs to his room to rest after two nights of unrest. Upon arriving, he discovered a small, loosely bound book on his windowsill. Out of curiosity, Altaïr took it into his hands and began reading.

'_Yesterday, I encountered an Assassin for the first time. I have been informed that his name is Altaïr Ibn A'Lahad, Flying One, Son of None. Very interesting. He's quite handsome even though I never see his face without the shadow of a hood. His best friend Malik reminds me of my brother, Hasuun—rest his soul—but I think he's taken with me, even though I don't see him in that way. Mother would be so upset, with me living in a castle full of men and all._

_-Raja'_

And the entries were written in this way with only one connection: him. Every time she wrote, it never failed to mention his name and something new about him—his personality and appearance. There were some things she mentioned he didn't even notice. For example, she noticed that he never looked anyone in the eye except her, he snored when he slept, and he had 'adorable' lips. He snorted, trying hold back a laugh at her deep thoughts and conclusions.

_She knows more about me than I know about her. _But then again, Altaïr did notice interesting things about her. Raja liked to bite half of her bottom lip, which made Altaïr's heart thud hard in his chest, her skin was flawless, and she swayed her hips when she walked, making her round posterior very noticeable. His heart panged a little in his chest, but he dismissed it absentmindedly.

He hadn't felt this since he saw Adha leave and never return a few years ago.

It was then he decided to light his furnace and burn this book for making him think this way.

It was then he decided he'd never think of another woman as a potential.

It was then he decided an assassin was all he'd ever be.

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"Raja Husa Ai'in, daughter of Talil Ai'in, we have summoned you here as the lone survivor of the Ai'in family. Your father has betrayed his brothers and broken his oath of loyalty to our cause. Since he has disappeared, we have deemed it necessary that his daughter would be suitable to pay for his sin."

Her eyes were downcast the whole time, never daring to challenge the men before her.

"So it is. I will do what is necessary if it redeems my family," she replied, nonchalant. A chill from the winter winds shattered her body so that she looked even more pitiful than before.

"At that, we sentence you to six weeks of lashing, dipping, and isolation. After that, you will be exiled from the Kingdom to live on Crete for the rest of your life." Even though Altaïr probably hated her now, it would have been nice if she could apologize for everything before leaving.

"I accept the sentences." A tall Templar knight moved towards her, grabbed her arm, and led her through a dark, airy hallway to a one-window room with one blanket.

"If you are to survive these next six weeks, then they will let you go. But if you cannot, you will never return to life as you knew it," his voice boomed, echoing all around her. He closed the door and locked it.

"Rest all you can tonight because you will not be able to for a long time." His tone sounded grim; he knew that what she was going to endure was not fit for a woman and it would be very hard for her to maintain sanity. The cold room had a single candle lit, her only source of insulation. She wished she had a nice warm bed like the one in Masyaf. Raja sat down and brought her legs to her chest, trying to keep warm. Meanwhile, her thoughts wandered to Altaïr, who probably _wasn't_ thinking about her after all that happened. He might have actually been glad that she was gone now.

The thought of him hating her brought tears to her eyes and a whole wave of negative emotions filled her mind. She missed Masyaf, her new friends, and most of all Altaïr. He was enjoyable to be around, though he didn't talk much. The senseless arguments she made up to irritate him were very amusing and provided her with a little entertainment throughout her day. The atmosphere of this place was cold, dead, and lonely.

Just the thought of being able to see him again warmed her spirits enough to help her go to sleep.

"Wake up! Your trials start this morning!" a loud voice boomed in her ears. The eight hours of sleep Raja had had that night had only seemed to be a moment without even a glimpse of a dream.

When she roused herself, every joint in her body creaked and groaned like old wood.

"Let's go," the Templar said, opening the door and letting her out. "Follow me." She trailed behind him, her eyes never averting from the ground she trudged. They finally reached a room with a pair of shackles hanging from the ceiling and Raja hesitated. The Templar pushed her forward, shackled her wrists, and tore the back of her dress. He noticed the scar from Altaïr's blade and asked, "Have you been whipped before?"

"No. It's a dagger wound," she replied. He said nothing more and unraveled his leather whip. She heard it hit the ground and soon it was hurled against her back.

She gasped at the excruciating pain surging through her nerves. It felt like a thousand knives cut into her back at once. He whipped her again, this one feeling harder than the last. It was so agonizing she couldn't even scream to express her pain.

A few moments later, the Templar released her from the chains and carried her to the outside, where the sky was grey and the wind blew furiously. Raja was half-conscious when she realized she was no longer indoors and was about to be dropped into a large pool of ice cold water. It jolted her senses, but she was too exhausted to react in any way. Her head throbbed with pain as she sat in the water, letting her limbs grow numb.

When she started to fade out of consciousness, the Templar removed her from the water to carry her back inside. A guard standing outside poured out the water and watched the river of blood disappear into the grass.

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A drastic turn of events, huh? Her father should be ashamed, making his daughter endure so much...Read and review, please. T_T


	12. NoFriend's Land

A/N: I have nothing to say this time. My mind is blank. Enjoy the next chapter.

Chapter Twelve: No-Friend's Land

Three weeks of nonstop whipping, cold water, and being stripped naked to face the cold turned Raja into a raw, lifeless young woman. She no longer felt anything. No warmth, no cold, no happiness, no sadness. Why go to such great lengths to feel in such ways? No one was there to help her enjoy or cast aside these feelings.

The welts on her back no longer gave her grief, her clothes weighed down her frail, thin body and sickness hung in her every breath. The Templars were impressed that she survived such intense trauma to her body and mind and therefore made known their respect to her before her departure from them. They would have kept her to ensure that she made it to Crete safely, but there were some problems they were dealing with that made it difficult for them to focus on her.

"We would accompany you to your new home, but some of our brothers have gone missing and haven't returned," the head Templar said, his red hood hiding his face. She bowed.

"I understand." The surrounding Templars did nothing to stop her from leaving; they watched her figure disappear into the cloudy morning. The rest of the villagers were not yet awake when she left, so she quietly made her way over to the stables and mounted a horse. With one click of her tongue, the horse took off at full speed towards the docks that protruded from the sandy beach. A lone boat waited for her there. She no longer thought about Altaïr and the thought of her father infuriated her. Crete would be a wonderful place to forget everyone she knew in her past life. It was a no friend's land.

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Life returned to normal in Masyaf after Raja left. He was able to sneak bread at breakfast time again, her defiant attitude no longer brought him angst, and Malik hadn't spoken of her since.

Altaïr enjoyed the tranquility of being alone once again, going wherever he wanted to without worrying about her. But he did miss her beautiful singing, for no one else sang in Arabic like she did.

And then again, he didn't have to worry about her safety anymore; she was safe, wherever she was. Living with assassins was not safe and he could do nothing for her. The only things he knew how to do were sneak, kill, and blend. He knew nothing about being a husband, love, or the emotions involved in a relationship. He was married to his life as an assassin and would never separate from her.

Not as long as four remaining Templars were still breathing.

I know this was a short chapter, but it was meant to be. It just explains what was going on after the Templars get a hold on Raja. The next chapter will be much longer and full of important events. Reviews! Reviews! REVIEWS! ^_^


	13. Deathly Reunion

A/N: This chapter is going to be very interesting with how everything plays out. Enjoy!

Chapter Thirteen: Dangerous Reunion

_It's been three years since I moved here to Crete. This is a very interesting place, indeed. The people all different colors, shapes and sizes, and they all speak different languages. If I am correct, they speak Farsi, Arabic, Italian, and Koine. There are quite a few Christians living here and Judaists as well. Perhaps exiles from the Islamic holy land. They assume I am a Muslim spy because I speak Arabic and come from the Kingdom, but I don't have enough time to explain to them why I'm here._

_Though the mainland is a couple of miles from here, there have been numerous rumors spreading that the Templars Remnant is being rooted out of the Kingdom by a particular group I don't wish to mention, for if someone were to come through here, I don't want them to know I am aware of their existence. I've been asking about my father and his whereabouts, but at the mention of his name, many choose to ignore me._

_I have decided that maybe my search is in vain. He is probably dead or too far away from here for me to reach him. If that bastard is dead, I will find his grave and spit on it for putting me through so much pain._

_-Raja_

She closed her journal and hid it underneath her pillow and went to the outside. The summer sun beamed down on her head as she walked to the city, passing by one-room houses identical to her own. It wasn't much compared to her home in Banghezi, but it was enough to keep her satisfied. Raja was actually content with her new life where no one knew her and didn't bother to know her. There were no threats to her life and everyone minded their own business.

The market street was in sight and at the far end was her 'friend', Kilal. His outward appearance made him look as if he had very little intelligence, but he actually knew a lot more than the average person, including the recent news about the Templar's Remnant.

"Ah, Raja! Good afternoon. Could I interest you in some freshly imported spices from India?" he asked.

"Not today. I need more information on the Templar's Remnant," she replied, lowering her voice so that no one could hear. He looked around uncomfortably then motioned her to follow him to an isolated alley.

"So?" she asked impatiently.

"The Hashashin still have one more Templar to get rid of. The other three were active members of the Remnant in the Kingdom."

"Who were they?" She needed to know the names to make sure that her father was still alive.

"The Council Head Osman, and Council Members Guillaume and Alexander from Greece and Gaul." She sighed in relief; her father was still alive and he wasn't a target of the Hashashin anyway. Was he?

"What about Talil Ai'in?"

"Talil, Talil, Talil," he repeated, trying to jog his memory.

"I believe he's the last one. They cannot find him. They say he's changed his appearance completely and he blends well with all the other Arabs in the Kingdom." Her heart began to race.

"Isn't he a traitor?" she asked quickly.

"Yes, but even if he has betrayed the Templars and his oath, he is still and enemy of the Hashashin. Ever since the first Crusade, once a man became a Templar, he remained a Templar forever."

"Thank you, Kilal." She turned to leave and he cleared his throat, making her turn around to see his hand out, palm open.

"This time, you must compensate me for giving away such important information." She growled as she slipped a few gold coins to him and stormed off, back towards home to formulate a plan to get to her father.

When she opened her door, a letter fell from the top of it and dropped to the ground.

"What's this..." she mumbled, picking it up off the floor. There was no seal or a name on it. There was small writing across the top, saying: "You must always be aware of the illusion around you." The moment she finished reading the quote, she instantly knew who it was from. Raja hurriedly closed the door to read the letter in the safety of her room.

Tearing it open carefully, she read:

**_"My dearest Raja,_**

**_I know it has been a long time since we last spoke to each other and you must hate me for that. Please forgive me. Concerning that night so long ago after your mother was taken away-" _**Raja stopped reading for a moment, trying to hold back tears at the mention of her mother. Then she continued.

**_"-I'm very sorry I left you all alone to fend off those Templars. I heard news from one of my friends that they had Atiya in their prison in Alexandria. I allowed myself to be captured, hoping they'd take me to Egypt. Fortunately, they did, and your mother was there, thank goodness. She had not been harmed, but they ordered her to be exiled from the Kingdom to Dion, where you are living right now. Seek her out please and return to me for one last reunion. The other Templars will not be present to halt your arrival, for I am the only one left. I am currently in Acre, but I fear that I may not be able to hide in plain sight much longer. The Hashashin will surely kill me soon. With all my love and apologies, I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me, Raja. _**

-**_Father"_**

Raja plopped onto her bed, trying to make sense of what she just read. Her father was still alive, asking for her forgiveness, and her mother was still alive after all these years. The thought of being reunited with her mother warmed her heart, but anger blazed at her father's pleas.

Asking for forgiveness? After everything that has happened? He was being unfair and selfish, asking for pardon and pity all at once.

'I will not forgive him! But for the sake of my mother, I will seek her out and return to the Kingdom.'

Raja stood and went about searching for her mother, Atiya.

'She's been here all this time and I haven't seen her once. I'm sure she'd notice me.'She scanned the crowds anxiously, eyes darting left and right.

"This is no use," she told herself, turning back towards the market street to ask Kilal what he knew about the city's people.

"Back again?" he asked, not looking up from his spice collection.

"Yes. I have another favor to ask. What do you know of the people who live here?" He looked up at her, questioning blue eyes studying her face.

"A lot. What do you want to know?"

"A woman named Atiya." He put a hand to his bearded chin in thought.

"I remember her. She's been here about four years. I don't see her anymore. Try her neighbors in the Lavender District; they'll know where she is."

"Thank you," Raja said hurriedly, barely being able to walk out of excitement. The Lavender District was just a few hundred feet away, its pale purple flag whipping in the wind. She passed through the checkpoint quickly, ignoring the looks being shot at her for such irrational behavior. The first door she saw, she knocked on it. A few moments later, a boy just shy of his teens opened the door.

"Hello. Do you know anyone by the name of Atiya? She's about forty-three years old, rather tall and my color," she asked.

"No. Try the old maid who lives on the hill. She'd probably know." He closed the door and Raja couldn't help but run up the steep hill, her calves burning from the incline. She knocked on the door like a maniac, not caring if the woman was asleep or not. It took her a little more time to get to the door than the boy down the hill.

"Hello, young lady. May I help you?" she asked slowly, aged brown eyes peering down at her. The woman was very tall, dark and stern-looking. Raja hesitated a moment, fearing to say something wrong to this female giant.

"I'm looking for a woman named Atiya," she replied.

"Is she your mother?" the woman asked. Raja gasped; how could she tell?

"Yes. How did you know?"

"Your eyes gave it away. They are the mirror of the soul. I could also see a lot of anger," she inquired. "Is something bothering you, child?"

"No. I'd just like to see my mother," she said quickly. The woman looked her up and down, hand on her hip.

"What's your name, young one?"

"Raja."

"You looked like your mother. I'm Nyota. Follow me," she said.

'What does she mean by 'looked'?'They went into the back to a garden with beautiful flowers growing underneath an acacia tree. Next to them was a tombstone. A tear fell from her eye as she approached it and fell to her knees.

"Mother?" She looked at the engraving: "Atiya Ai'in. A beautiful gift." The grass overgrew where she was buried, indicating she had been dead for quite some time.

"How long has she been dead?" Raja asked, trying to fight back tears, but they kept coming.

"About three months since she died of smallpox. I'm so sorry, child."

It almost felt surreal.

Raja never thought that in a million years would her mother die.

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Pretty sad. I almost cried when I wrote this ending. (Teary-eyed) Review please...T_T


	14. Welcome Home

A/N: This is the chapter where our 'lovebirds' reunite! Bon appetit!

Chapter Fourteen: Welcome Home

Raja cried for hours, salty tears burning her eyes. Who knew she could feel so sad? There weren't even words for her pain. She and her mother were always close, like best friends even. Without her mother, she truly felt alone. There was no one else like her—beautiful, witty, funny and loving all the time.

She'd give anything just to see her again.

Packing her things was hard, tears hampering her vision and the lack of will to go on making her hands tremble. Nyota allowed her pick one of the flowers lying on her grave. She said that it grew from the life that was once Atiya's, thus being a part of her body. Raja would keep it with her until she passed away.

Raja cracked open her front door, reluctant to leave the sheltered, safe life she had in Dion. It was so easy to live there, but it lacked the vitality she was so used to in overpopulated cities like Jerusalem and Damascus. The warm, bustling cities brought warmth to her heart on this cold night as she closed the door, leaving behind the life she thought would satisfy her. But the rambunctious blood of her mother pumped through her veins and the Kingdom was calling her name.

The long boat ride was exhausting, though it required no exertion or movement, with the exception of the boat rocking on the waves. A few children couldn't stomach it, and therefore, threw up over the side of the boat. The cold night air whipped against her face, numbing her cheeks. She wrapped her cloak tightly around her face, trying to keep warm. She examined all the other passengers, huddling to keep warm. One man standing alone by the side of the boat was an exception. His face was turned towards the water, watching the sea shine underneath the moonlight. A gut feeling made her think she knew him.

A hood concealed his eyes from view and a shadow was cast over the bottom half of his face, making it hard for her to tell if he had a stubbled chin or not.

_It cannot be who I think it is..._she thought in disbelief. What would he be doing in Crete, so far away from home? Surely, he didn't follow her there. As if he could feel her eyes on him, he turned in her direction and she quickly looked away, focusing on keeping her hands warm. He looked back towards the water, stationary. She exhaled, relieved that he didn't confront her. Whether it was _him_or not, she didn't want any trouble until she had a decent amount of sleep and a full stomach.

Raja stood up, moving towards the back of the boat to look at the water away from the mysterious man. She leaned on the side, gazing at the deep blue sea attentively. Running her hand through it, she discovered it was warm and it tingled her insides, stimulating her blood's circulation. Then she felt a hand remove her arm from the water and she jumped back, alarmed.

"You shouldn't do that," a deep voice suggested. It was the man in the dark red hood that was standing alone.

"You scared me," was all she said, trying to force her heart to return to its normal rhythm. The moonlight shone on his face and she almost screamed. He was the spitting image of Altaïr. He looked concerned at her reaction.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, hand on her shoulder. She tensed up.

"N-no. You look exactly like someone I knew." He raised his eyebrows.

"Really? We might be related." Though it was an entirely different person, Raja found it strange to see 'Altaïr' elicit so much emotion.

"Can I see your hands?" she asked shyly.

"Sure," he said with uncertainty. He extended them and she examined them. They were about the same size as Altaïr's, but he didn't have a missing ring finger, so he was definitely not him. Was this some kind of trick?

"Did you find what you were looking for?" he asked.

"I guess so," she said, looking up into his eyes and seeing bright green emeralds shine.

'He's incredibly handsome, just like Altaïr. God, why did this have to happen?'

"Maybe you should sit down. There are still a few hours until we reach Acre," he said.

"Maybe I should. Thank you," she said quietly. The boat shook as it went over a slightly larger wave, throwing her off balance.

"Ah!" she gasped, falling forward and into the stranger's arms. He caught her, softly holding her against him. Her nostrils breathed in his unforgettable scent. There was no perfume, but he smelled like a _man, _like Altaïr.

"Are you okay?" he asked. She tore out of his grasp, cheeks turning red.

"I'm fine. Thank you." She walked away from him quickly and sat down on the nearest bench, trying to catch her breath.

'That was so embarrassing! I fell right into his arms. He must think I'm some sort of a harlot looking for pleasure.'She sighed, then let out a yawn. Her eyes felt heavy and folded in, so she closed them and fell asleep instantly.

"Now docking at Acre!" the captain said, tossing the rope to the man on the dock. The sun was peeking over the horizon in the east and all the passengers were still asleep, including Raja. Eventually, they cleared out, dispersing on the docks. The hooded stranger noticed Raja wasn't among them and turned his attention to the boat where he saw a lone figure stretched out on a bench.

"Wait!" he called out before the man on the dock loosened the rope. He walked over to her sleeping body and picked her up. She had a slight smile on her face. He continued looking at her, admiring her simple beauty as he walked. She stirred a little and then blinked twice.

"Huh?" she muttered, then opened her eyes wide.

"Oh, my goodness! Where are you taking me? Where are we?" She started moving around in his clutches.

"Calm down, woman. We are in Acre and I'm taking you to an inn," he said calmly. Raja obeyed.

_He sounded just like Altaïr. I've been thinking about him a lot lately. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to visit him..._

It had been three whole years since they last saw each other. He probably forgot about her and moved on. He didn't seem to be the kind of man to hold on to things.

He carried her up some stairs to an empty room and laid her down on the bed.

"Thank you again. I don't even know your name."

"My name is Asad. And you are?"

"Raja."

"Well, this is where we part and I say goodbye. Perhaps we will meet again soon." He gave her a sweet smile and closed the door. She collapsed backwards on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

_He **must **be related to Altaïr for him to look so much like him. What if Asad was telling the truth? What if he is Altaïr's brother, a twin? _These thoughts consumed her mind until she drifted off to sleep again, still exhausted from the boat ride.

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The hot afternoon sun burned Raja's stomach when she came out of her deep sleep and she rolled over into the shade to return to her slumber. But it wouldn't come, so she decided it was time for her to find her father.

Unfortunately, she didn't know where to start. He didn't give her his location, both detrimental and beneficial to the situation. If someone other than her were to receive it, they'd probably tell and it would spread like wildfire. If Raja knew exactly where he was, she wouldn't be wasting her time in the marketplace, listening to every conversation for information.

All the talking was giving her a headache, so she left the busy streets and headed for an empty alleyway, hoping she'd find him hiding there. But there was no one in sight.

'Where could he be?...'she thought, A pair of hands grabbed her from behind and pulled her into a dark, abandoned house.

"Mmfh!" she mumbled through the gloves as she was pulled up stairs.

"Calm down, child," a weary voice petitioned. It sounded very much like her father's and she stopped retaliating. She tore out of his grasp to look at him, who looked as if time never touched his face.

"Father?" He stepped back from her, looking down in shame.

"Yes, it's me. Where is your mother?" he asked. His eyes lingered on the doorway.

"She's dead." He looked up, eyes already wet with tears.

"She has died? Oh no," he said through choked up breaths, trying to hold himself together. He walked towards her to take her into his arms and she allowed him to. No matter how much she hated her father right then at that moment, she let it go at his touch. She couldn't stay mad at him after all the unnecessary affection he showed to her by educating her as if she were a boy and spending more than usual time with her. A flood of memories entered her mind from when she was younger, all the time she was with him.

All the days they practiced sword fighting, reading, writing and training horses back home. No other girl received so many precious gifts from her father like these.

"I'm so sorry, Raja," he whispered, holding her tight. At hearing his pitiful voice, she started crying and buried her face into his shoulder.

"I forgive you, Father," she replied. During their long awaited reunion, a hooded figure on a rooftop some distance away came into view with a bow and arrow. He was focused on the taller, lean figure in the dark, steadying his aim and releasing it. The arrow sped through the air and struck. He grunted, fighting to exhale. Unaware of the arrow in his back, Raja asked, "What's wrong?" His eyes were wide in shock as he reached behind him and she gasped at the sight of the foreign object protruding from her father.

"Noooooo!" she screamed, catching her father before he fell. She scanned the outside, looking for the murderer, but found no one. He was already long gone. When she turned back to her father, he was taking in his last breath. He tugged on the collar of her dress, urging her to lend an ear for him to speak in.

_"Ana behibek, Raja,"_ he whispered, blood falling out of the side of his mouth. Then he closed his eyes, and lie still.

Now there were no more Templars left to kill. Tears came pouring out and she sobbed loudly, not caring who could hear. Then footsteps slowly ascended the stairs and she quieted down and stood up, wiping her tear-stained face.

As if fate had had a hand in this event, at the top of the stairs stood Altaïr. He was staring at her with an icy glare like he always did.

"Welcome home," he said. Raja simply fainted, tired from the shock, and fell to the floor with a sigh. He picked her up from the ground and carried her downstairs, where he would mount his horse and ride for Masyaf.

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Now both of her parents are dead, and she feels she has nothing to live for! Someone save her from herself! Will it be Altaïr, or will she take her own life to end her suffering and loneliness?


	15. From Deep Inside

A/N: This is where the story starts to slow down a little. Enjoy!

Chapter Fifteen: From Deep Inside

"'You cannot rush things...'"

"'...will be awake soon."'

"'...try to kill her again, Altaïr?"'

"'...accuse me of such foolishness..."'

The conversation echoed in Raja's head as she lay, regaining consciousness. Hifah, Malik, and Altaïr were waiting for her to awaken.

"Aren't you glad she's back, Altaïr? Now you could tell her you love her," Malik teased. Hifah giggled, rubbing her round belly.

"Shut up, Malik, or your son will grow up fatherless," he threatened.

"There's nothing wrong with a little teasing, Altaïr." He stood, anger emanating from his body.

"I have no time for your games, Malik," he growled, storming off. Just as he left, Raja was opening her eyes to Malik and Hifah, who were holding grins that stretched from ear to ear.

"Malik? Hifah?" she asked, groggily, pushing the blanket off of her.

"It's been a while, Raja. How have you been?" Hifah asked, standing up to take her into her arms, despite the fact that a huge belly distanced them.

As she pulled away, Raja asked,"Hifah, you are pregnant?" Blushing, she nodded.

"I'm praying for a girl. Hopefully, the baby will come next week as planned."

"Who's the father?" Malik cleared his throat and stood next to his wife.

"I am."

"How long have you two been married?"

"About two years. Enough about us, are you hungry?" Malik asked, directing her towards the door to the downstairs.

"Actually, I am not. But thank you. I think I'll just get some fresh air," she said quietly, then added, "Where is Altaïr?"

"Oh. He left just as you awoke. I'm sure he'll be back to check on you. It's so nice to have you back, Raja," Hifah replied with a smile. They closed the door and Raja was alone. She took the time to go up on the roof and lay in the sun's warmth. It was peaceful in the fortress that day, birds singing and the wind blowing against her face and in her hair.

All of the sudden, something told her to go inside—she could sense someone else nearby. Upon returning to the room, she saw the tall, white clad man closing the door.

"I suspected you would be on the roof," he said coldly. Hearing his spine chilling voice again after so long made Raja excited at their reunion, but yet, at their last exchange of words, he hurt her feelings. Her soul was divided and eventually one emotion would overwhelm the other.

"It's where I always was when I lived here," she shot back, trying not to stare. He had put on a considerable amount of weight and his biceps were defined very well under his white robes. Altaïr moved towards her silently, and she kept her head down.

"You always did have a sharp tongue." She finally looked up into his intense, light brown eyes.

"And you as well, Altaïr." Something about him seemed to be different. His aura felt as if it had grown colder, more withdrawn.

Raja turned back towards the window, staring at the rushing water below.

"You killed my father, didn't you?" she asked, trying to hold back tears.

"I did what I had to as an Assassin. He was a Templar, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. It needed to be done," he replied, watching her every move.

A warm sensation stung Raja's eyes as she examined the glass vase holding the lone rose she took from Crete, biting her bottom lip to hold back her tears.

"I have no more family left now. I've been abandoned in this world. Maybe I should join my mother and father. No one needs me anymore." Moving faster than a whip, she grabbed the nearest dagger from its holster on Altaïr's belt and held it to her own neck. He stood, patiently waiting for her next move.

"Go ahead and end your own life. Suicide is a coward's death," he spoke, still stationary. Raja hesitated, expecting him to say something he wouldn't. But instead, he knocked the blade out of her hand and pinned her against the wall, holding her wrists.

"Don't be such a fool," he growled, his face inches away from hers.

"You don't care whether I live or die," she whispered, eyes full of shame. Altaïr eventually let her go, but before he left her, he said, "If you didn't assume that, then you would have died a long time ago." She said nothing, but instead sat on her bed, thinking about what he'd just said to her.

'I don't even recognize myself. What has happened to me?' Raja asked herself, looking into the mirror across the room. What she saw was a frail, desperate woman begging for attention. Someone that was not her. Out of uncontrollable rage, she grabbed something—anything, and threw it at the reflection, screaming like a madman. Tears streamed out of her eyes as she clenched sections of her hair, giving herself a nauseating headache.

Hifah, who was approaching, heard the commotion and rushed to her room.

"Raja, what is wrong?" she pleaded, looking on as her friend sent numerous objects shattering against the wall in her fury. Her rampage continued, all of the emotions she kept bottled in over three years out all at once.

"Raja, you must calm down!" she begged, straining her small voice. The enraged woman ignored her, continuing to scream and tear her room apart. Hifah marched over to Raja, grabbed her by her shoulders and slapped her hard across the face. Assassins outside the room looked on curiously, hands at their blades. There had never been this much noise in the castle before.

Raja finally came to her senses, holding her stinging cheek in surprise.

"I-I'm so sorry, Hifah. I don't know what came over me," she whispered, disappearing out the window once again and taking leave to the roof.

"Is everything alright, Hifah?" Malik asked, running up to her with worry in his eyes.

"I'm fine. Raja just went mad!" she exclaimed, exasperated. He scanned the demolished room with his eyes.

"I see. Where is she now?"

"Up on the roof. I believe we should leave her be for now. I need to sit down." Two other women entered the room to take both of her hands and lead her downstairs. Passing quickly through all the murmuring, Altaïr returned to Raja's room, looking at the destruction.

"What has happened here?" he ordered.

"Hifah says that Raja just went crazy. When you were up here alone with her, did you say or do something to her?" Malik asked, trying to distinguish what could be salvaged from the irreparable.

"She threatened to take her own life and I knocked the blade away before she did anything foolish."

"Perhaps the Templars tampered with her mind a little too much. From what I see in this room, she had a lot of resentment towards what happened."

"Perhaps, Malik. A tampered mind is like a wild animal in a cage. Once it is set free, it doesn't know how to act. Someone clean up this mess." He slipped through the window and peered up onto the roof, where he saw a woman he didn't recognize to be the same one who was as stubborn as he was. Altaïr returned to the inside to make sense of the mess in her room.

Raja sat with her head in her hands, trying to find herself once again. All of the events that happened over the span of three years were too much for her to handle alone: getting chased away from home by Templars, being on the verge of death, almost being raped by Tauraj, being held captive and tortured by the Remnant, and being hated by the only man she may have ever truly cared about. All of these events filled her mind with overbearing emotions she'd never felt before.

This woman was deprived of life, in pain and losing her sanity at an alarming rate. But the Raja from deep down inside was still struggling to break free. She wouldn't give up without a fighting chance.

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Go Raja! Kick depression's butt! You can do it! Please review! =)


	16. Change of Character

A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the last chapter. This one is going to be even better. Trust me. Next chapter!

Chapter Sixteen: Change of Character

The next morning was full of odd stares and gossip as Raja made her way to the kitchen to help make breakfast. A few assassins stopped dead in their tracks just to stare at her, ridicule in their eyes. Raja no longer had the will to look them in the eyes, so she continued walking with her head towards the ground, watching her feet move in her black slippers.

'They're acting like they've never seen a woman before. What's their problem?'she thought as she disappeared into the kitchen and everyone resumed their previous activities. The women in the room full of the smell of butter and warm bread instantly noticed her presence and eagerly greeted her with hugs. Reluctantly, she returned their embraces, not knowing how to take the surprising reactions to her being there.

"We missed you so much, Raja! Where have you been?" one face familiar to her asked.

"I left the country for a while. The Templars had me."

"Oh no! They're horrible! Why didn't Altaïr save you?" one woman asked. Raja let out a small exhale, not knowing how to answer her question.

"He felt I betrayed him because my father was a Templar. He figured I was better off with them."

"Oh, Altaïr can be such a heel sometimes. It was obvious he liked you a lot more than others." Raja instantly reddened. What would it have been like now, three years into it: courting? Engaged? Marriage? She shook the thought from her head. It was impossible.

Besides, she had seen the beautiful women that stayed in the garden behind the castle; they were there for a reason, not to just sit there and be pretty.

"How could you tell?" Raja asked, intent on knowing the answer.

"He was always stealing glances at you, watching your every move. His eyes never left your form when he was around." She almost burst out into laughter; Altaïr was so reserved. Now content with her newly acquired knowledge, Raja decided to experiment.

'This is going to be fun,' she thought as she finished kneading the dough in front of her.

"Raja, do you mind setting these on the Masters' table?" Hifah asked, extending a bowl of fresh fruit to her.

"At once, but you should be resting, Hifah." The pregnant woman gave her a dirty, but playful look and went back to the other side of the kitchen.

'This is my chance,' Raja thought, dusting off her sea green sleeveless dress as she walked. At that, she added more sway to her gait, attracting more attention to her bottom and bunched all of her hair to one shoulder, letting the curls tickle her face.

Altaïr still looked tall and menacing as he sat in his chair, chin resting on his hands and hood hiding his face in shadow. His eyes were focused everywhere but Raja's tall frame—so unlike his calm, nonchalant demeanor—as she approached his table.

"Good morning, Altaïr," she mushed into one word, gently placing the bowl on the table. His honey colored eyes finally focused on her, glancing over her form briefly. Perhaps it was also his way of saying good morning because he said nothing in reply. Then he stared at her left arm for a long time, noticing the shiny scar tissue rising above her once unscathed skin.

"What happened to your arm?" he asked. She'd forgotten all about the nasty scar left by all the abuse she received when with the Templars and now he was asking her how she got them. Raja stayed silent for a moment before replying.

"Nothing. Make nothing of it," she blurted out. Altaïr's bow-shaped lips turned down a little. Her head was turned away from him, her eyes narrow as she stared at the ground.

"I must go back to the kitchen." Forgetting all about her little experiment, she hurried to the castle, trying to hold back her anger with herself. Why couldn't she just tell him the truth? She had no problems with doing it before. Her conscience beat her up through the course of the day, pestering her about lying to the only person in Masyaf who knew almost everything about her. But yet, she knew nothing about him.

Like an idiot, she'd told him everything about her younger days, where she came from and who her father was.

'How could I be so careless?'

"Raja, is everything alright?" Hifah asked, placing her small hand on Raja's, who was unsuspecting of her voice.

"I-I'm fine. Just thinking." The pregnant woman nodded her head slowly.

"If there's anything you want to talk about, please let me know. We are friends for a reason, Raja." Sincerity rang in her every word.

"Can we talk now?" she said in a whisper. Hifah turned around, smiling and nodding.

"Let's go somewhere private." The garden behind the castle had the concubines, but they were so busy with themselves, they wouldn't pay attention to the two women entering the area to sit down on the stone bench.

"Start from the beginning, Raja. I need to know everything in order for me to understand." Raja exhaled slowly, then began from the day she tried to save the priest, explaining in detail everything that happened between her and Altaïr. Then she recalled her time with the Templars and then her time on Crete, all the while trying her best not to cry. Hifah listened closely, saddened by her friend's tragic story.

After Raja finished recounting her tale, it felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

"Raja, you can't carry all your burdens alone. Didn't talking about it make you feel better?" she counseled, already sounding like a mother.

"Thank you so much for listening. You'll be a wonderful mother."

"Hifah, Raja, breakfast is served!" They both stood and headed to the women's table in the dining quarters. The Assassins were already shoveling food into their mouths ravenously, never pausing to breathe in between chews.

'These men are like animals. Not one of them has said a word since the food hit the table,' Raja thought as she saw several dozen mouths in motion, including Altaïr's, who was more civil with his food.

'He's not relaxed even in his own home!'A silly thought entered her mind as she ate. Raja imagined Altaïr bathing in his robes because he was _never_seen without them.

A few of the women sitting next to her were staring at her in bewilderment, wondering why the woman next to them was smiling and laughing to herself. Deciding that it was best to join in the table's conversation, Raja tuned her ears towards the middle of the table.

The men finished in clusters, leaving behind their dirty dishes and enjoying their full bellies. Altaïr trailed behind the last group, his long legs moving him forward in a fluid gait. Raja's eyes followed him until he was no longer in sight and Hifah asked, "Raja, what are you wearing to tonight's event?" She focused her attention back to the table, then looked down at her fidgeting hands.

"I didn't even know that something was happening tonight. I guess I'll wear what I have on now." All of the women at the table protested loudly, causing a few of the guards to turn their heads in their direction.

"Keep calm over there!" one of them shouted, then resumed his patrol. In a quieter tone, Janan exclaimed, "You can't wear that if you want to impress Altaïr!"

"I'm not trying to impress him! He doesn't care for me anymore!" she shot back.

"Calm down, you two. I'll help you, Raja. I still have my dresses from before my belly grew," Hifah threw in. Raja nodded once, showing her gratitude, then carried her dishes back to the kitchen for washing. The once deserted area was soon full of women once again, rushing to clean the stacks of dirty dishes.

'They must want to get ready for tonight as soon as possible. I wonder what's happening that's worth celebrating.'

Once the kitchen was clean, all of the women dispersed to their rooms to prepare for the night's event.

"Come with me, Raja. I have a dress I've been waiting to give to someone who could fit it." Raja trailed behind Hifah, who was carefully taking the stairs one by one.

They finally reached her room and turned to her dresser.

"Here we are," Hifah sighed, pulling out a dark green dress with golden embroidery tracing the sleeves and skirt.

"It's so beautiful. Who did this dress belong to?" she asked, admiring the intricate craftsmanship.

"My mother. She thought I'd grow to be as tall as she was, but I didn't and she gave it to me anyway. Someone would come along and be the perfect fit for it; that person is you, Raja." Tears came to her eyes and she hugged her pregnant friend.

"Be careful; I don't want you squeezing this baby out too soon," Hifah joked. Raja laughed through her sobbing.

'If Altair doesn't care for me anymore, I'll live for Hifah. I'll be a sister she never had_._'

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A few hours later, the sun had disappeared beneath the horizon for the night, giving way for the moon and stars to illuminate the sky. From her room, Raja could see the courtyard that was usually full of sweaty fighting men transform into a dusky, yet intimate setting appropriate for dancing and socializing.

'This castle always looked so old and dusty, but for tonight it has transformed completely, whatever the occasion is.'Raja had been around Hifah for the rest of the day and she had yet to ask her who the party was for.

Before heading downstairs, Raja checked herself in the mirror one last time. The dress was perfect, complementing her shape and skin color. Hifah even convinced her to wear a little smoky kohl to accentuate her hazel eyes and braid her hair into one long ponytail with a golden ribbon tied at the end. She'd never dressed up this much and it was making her very uncomfortable all of the sudden. She couldn't even recognize herself in her reflection.

"Raja, you look beautiful," Hifah inquired.

"You as well." Pregnancy was already a beautiful stage in life, and the crimson red and black dress made Hifah appear to be a fertility god.

"Shall we?" Exchanging warm smiles, they walked arm in arm to the outside.

Throughout the whole evening, they received compliments from all over. Little by little, Raja was gaining her self-confidence back.

"Where is Altaïr?" she asked, her concerned eyes scanning the faces among the crowd.

"I don't know. He should be here. Why don't you go look for him?" Hifah asked. Raja tightened her grip on her hand.

"I'll be fine." Malik was approaching them from the front with a large smile plastered in his face.

"Hifah, you glow with beauty for your party," he said, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. Just from that gesture Raja could see that Malik had found the right one.

"Malik, have you seen Altaïr?"

"No, I haven't seen him since this afternoon. He didn't like the idea that he couldn't wear a hood tonight, so he must be in his room reading a book or something." Raja seemed a little down.

"You could go up to see him, Raja." She replied quickly, "No, I don't think that's a good idea. I'll just go get some cold air." She bolted outside the castle gate to the rocky cliff, watching the water glisten under the moonlight. Out of the corner of her eye, Raja could see a tall figure slowly approaching her right side. She sighed, thinking it was some man trying to flirt, but instead the man kept his distance from her and stood a few feet away.

He was wearing midnight blue robes and black trousers with long brown boots, like the ones the guards and Assassins wore.

'He must be an Assassin, unless he stole those boots.'She continued inspecting this man and noticed that he had no ring finger and she almost gasped.

'He's_ definitely_an Assassin_._'His profile matched that of Altaïr's, but she was still unsure and afraid to get closer.

'Whoever he is, he's very handsome.'She shifted a little, putting more weight on her left side, making her hip protrude slightly and the man instantly took note of it. Giggling inside, Raja came to the conclusion that it was Altaïr after all—w_ithout _his hood at that. He looked like any other Syrian man at that moment.

"I thought I would never see you without a hood, Altaïr," she said quietly, a placid smile on her face. He turned his head in her direction, trying to find the source of the voice. Mentally she rolled her eyes.

'Men can be so stupid sometimes_._'She turned to face him completely and his jaw nearly dropped when he saw it was Raja.

"You look...different," he said, his cool voice flowing.

"As do you." He was already attractive with his hood on, but it was meaningless to think he wouldn't be even more attractive with it gone. Her cheeks suddenly felt flushed and she found it hard to breathe.

"About the scars on your arm..." She tensed up, forgetting he saw them earlier and now she'd have to tell him.


	17. Witness to a Miracle

A/N: I was kidding when I said there were only a few chapters left.=) There are many more to come! Next chappie!

Chapter Seventeen: Witness to a Miracle

There were a few moments of silence before the sticky feeling in Raja's throat went away. Altaïr was waiting for an answer, his piercing eyes focused on her.

'How did I get myself in this mess?'she thought. There was only one way out of it, and that was to tell the truth. She closed the gap between them so that he could hear her over the loud conversations inside the castle.

"About three days after the Templars had me, they decided to take their anger out on me. My father wasn't there to receive his punishment, so they beat me, submerged me in cold water, and they burned me with iron rods. Some days I went without any food, and when I did get some, it was rotten or too hard to eat. The Templars are—or should I say _were_—cruel and merciless." Her voice trembled with every word, recounting all the sleepless nights she had because her body shook so violently. Silence fell between them again and Raja suddenly felt sick to her stomach. Her vision started to grow blurry and she would have fallen over if Altaïr hadn't caught her. That was the first time he'd touched her since they met. It felt strange, being in this man's arms.

"I'm sorry. I need to go," she said quietly, leaving his arms and going back into the castle. Everyone was too busy talking to notice the crying young woman pushing through the crowd. The upper level had few couples talking quietly and surprisingly Hifah was there, too. But she looked quite perturbed, her eyes narrow and focused in concentration as she rubbed her belly in circles.

Raja had never seen her look that way and so decided to find out what was going on.

"Hifah, are you alright?" she asked quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm fine, it's just that I feel really warm. It must be all the excitement going on. The baby has been kicking a lot for the past hour."

"Do you need some water?"

"Yes, that would be nice. Thank you, Raja."

'Just give me anything to do to keep my mind off negative thoughts. I cannot give in to depression again.'

The kitchen was dark and deserted when Raja finally reached it, a strange sight to her. Any other time, it was overcrowded with women shouting orders to one another. She laughed to herself, remembering all the days she spent there, cooking and cleaning. Maybe Masyaf was her real home, complete with people who cared about her. If she knew how Altaïr truly felt about her, she'd feel much better about staying, but for now, she was deciding whether she'd leave or not.

In the brief conversation she had had with her mother's caretaker before leaving Crete, she told Raja that there were some relatives who still lived in Banghezi and were more than willing to take her in if she wanted to stay with them.

The decision was tough. There were two cities she could call home, but her heart only belonged to one.

'Should I stay here in Masyaf or should I go to Banghezi?' she asked herself, sighing in deep thought.

"Is something bothering you?" a cool voice asked, breaking the silence and making her jump.

"Altaïr, must you give me such a scare?" She grabbed a cup from the shelves above her head and filled it with water from the reservoir.

"If I had known that they were going to treat you so cruelly, I would have killed every last one of those men the night they came for you." Her heart began to beat faster and she stood perfectly still, wondering what he was going to say next.

Was Altaïr about to confess his true feelings for her? That's what Raja had been waiting for over the course of three years, but she wasn't sure she wanted to hear it.

"Tauraj was the head guard who took me. I told you what he tried to do. But yet, you were so insistent that I would betray you, so you didn't help me. I would have never done that to you, because I befriended you. I haven't forgiven you for that, and I probably never will," she replied just as coldly as he would, leaving him in the dark.

Walking away feeling satisfied with telling him the truth, Raja suddenly felt terribly afraid.A chill went up her spine as she climbed the stairs and came to a startling discovery: Hifah was gone from her place. Furrowing her brows, Raja searched the sea of people with her eyes, trying to find a pregnant woman, but found nothing.

"Where could she have gone?" she mumbled. Then she turned to searching the rooms in the hallway, opening every door until she got to Malik's room, where she heard loud, labored breathing.

"Hifah? Oh, my goodness!" There was a pool of clear liquid on the floor underneath her body that was slowly drying.

"You've gone into labor early! Here, let me help you get on the bed." With some hidden strength, Raja picked her friend up off the ground and set her on the bed, removing everything but the sheets. Hifah let out a painful scream, her eyes tight and two guards entered the room quickly.

"What's going on in here?" one of them demanded.

"She's gone into labor! Call Malik, quick!"

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_I can't believe that woman just told me off. I guess it was well deserved, considering the situation was in my control..._

"Altaïr, what are you doing in the dark? The party is outside," Malik said in his heavy Arabic accent.

"You finally decided not to wear your hood. I thought I'd never see the day. Were you with Raja?" Altaïr shifted a little, anticipating teasing from his friend, but received none.

"I know about everything that happened. Hifah told me Raja doesn't like you too much right now. I understand her anger towards you."

"Did you come here to lecture me, Malik? If so, I'll take my leave," Altaïr growled, walking past Malik until he grabbed his shoulder with his only remaining hand.

"It's evident you two have some sort of a connection—no matter how hostile it seemed, so why not apologize to her and make both of your lives a lot more simple?"

"I don't apologize for something I did not do."

"We all have room for improvement, Altaïr. She's probably more willing to forgive than you think." Altaïr looked into his friend's dark eyes and found truth. He could always rely on Malik for advice. If wasn't for him, he would have never considered talking to her again.

"Malik! Malik, come quick!" a woman from the party said. Without hesitation, he asked, "What's going on?"

"It's your wife. She's having the baby early. She's upstairs in your room." They both rushed for the stairs, trying to reach the distressed screaming coming from his wife.

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"Come on, Hifah, push," Raja commanded.

'I've helped my mother birth three other children. It can't be any harder this time.'

It had been thirty minutes since she went into labor and the baby's head was crowning. Hifah's face was flushed red with exhaustion and her hair stuck to her damp skin, yet she continued pushing.

"I can't do it, Raja. I'm too tired."

"Yes you can. You're almost there, Hifah. Come on." With one final push, a flood of blood, placenta and the baby came out, healthy and crying. Immediately, Raja cut the umbilical cord and wrapped the baby in a fresh cotton blanket. The women who had gathered around awed in amazement as they watched the baby coo in Raja's arms. She suddenly felt accomplished, proud that she could handle such a miraculous event on her own.

At that moment, Malik and Altaïr pushed through the crowd, exhausted from running up the stairs to get to his room. Raja turned them, a sweet smile on her face as she handed Malik—who looked completely overwhelmed—his newborn son.

"Congratulations, Malik. You have a new baby boy," she whispered. Her voice was tired from yelling at the other women to hand her hot water and towels for the past hour.

Altaïr quietly observed from behind, admiring the small human in his friend's arms, and then turned his attention to Raja, who looked tired but happy. All of her makeup washed away with her sweat and her ponytail was loose, strands of hair sticking up straight. He thought she looked very attractive, in a relaxed kind of way.

Knowing she wasn't needed anymore, Raja started to leave the room, until Hifah called out her name.

"Raja, come here, please." She knelt down by the bed.

"Thank you so much. I couldn't have done it without you, my sister." Kissing her forehead lightly, Raja whispered, "Rest. You worked hard tonight," then took her leave to the balcony down the hall.

Altair silently followed, walking down the hall to where Raja waited. She was leaning over the railing, looking out at the dark world.

"That's the fourth birth I've helped make successful."

"You sensed me fairly quickly yet again. If I didn't already know you, I'd assume you were an assassin."

"Have you come to question me again?" Raja asked, turning around to face him.

"No. I've come to apologize. Forgive me for not protecting you when I should have." His voice sounded sincere, but his eyes were hardened and still. She stood silent, watching him turn to leave and then did the unthinkable.

Raja wrapped her hands around his waist, holding him tight as she rested her head on his back. Instead of pushing her away, he turned around and held her close.

"That's all I needed to hear, Altaïr." She looked up into his light brown eyes, taking in their intensity. That was when he pulled away. He was feeling quite uncomfortable with her staring at him so...strangely. "However, I haven't completely forgiven you yet."

"What more must I do?" he asked, slightly annoyed that she hadn't fully accepted his apology, which was so hard for him to say.

"I will tell you soon. Be a patient assassin, Altaïr." Raja gave him a quick smile before disappearing down the hall.


	18. To Damascus: Alone?

A/N: This is a talkative chapter. Brace yourselves!

Chapter Eighteen: To Damascus...Alone?

The morning after the party, the apology, and the birth of Malik's first son, his room was busy with constant visitors leaving gifts for the new parents. Since Malik the Second was sleeping most of the day, Altaïr served as the mediator between people outside the door and Hifah, who was constantly fawning over her newborn. Malik stood off to the side, a wide grin plastered on his face.

"You can rest for a while, Altaïr. Maybe you should go check on Raja. She's still in her room, getting ready for her trip," Hifah suggested. "I must breastfeed in a moment, anyway." At that note, Altaïr quickly exited, glad to be pardoned from his duty as the door maid. Raja's room was three doors down—he decided he would go talk to her about this 'trip' she was taking—without his permission. He was to watch her everywhere she went, after all. He was tickled for a moment, remembering all the things they'd been through before she left for Crete: chasing her down, taking her to Jerusalem, and then almost killing her, _twice._ He'd never acted so irrationally before; perhaps she had a profound effect on him after all, and he failed to realize it.

He knocked on her door quietly before cautiously opening it. She was nowhere to be found. Assuming she was on the roof, Altaïr made his way to the window, until he felt his body being pushed towards her bed. He leaned back on his heels, skidding to a stop and Raja halted her pushing.

"If you came to talk, sit down," she said, gesturing towards the bed. Her dresser was open and there were clothes sitting on her bed.

"I prefer to stand," he replied quickly. Raja asked, "Why are you here, anyway?" as she sat down and started folding her dresses.

"I heard from Hifah that you are leaving." She halted her folding for a moment, then resumed.

"I was going to tell you, Altaïr...eventually," she mumbled.

'When I got back.'

"Who gave you permission to leave the fortress?" he asked.

"Malik. He is a Master, correct? I knew if I asked you, you'd be hammering me with questions all day." What she said was true.

"Besides, you would have said no, wouldn't you?" she asked with a smile.

"...Perhaps." A soft knock interrupted their tongue quarrel. Altaïr opened it slightly.

"Raja, your horse is ready at the gate," a young maidservant informed through the door. Altaïr focused his sights on her quickly, his eyebrows furrowed in question. She hesitated to reply, her attention on the bewildered assassin.

"Thank you, Lilandrah," she said quietly. He closed the door, his eyes demanding an explanation.

"I was going to tell you I was leaving today, but we got caught up. I have some unfinished business in Damascus. My father left some valuable heirlooms in an abandoned property very near to Beirut and since I'm his only living child, I must go claim them or they'll be sold." Altaïr now seemed interested, his eyes lighting up under his hood.

"Very well."

"I'm going alone, Altaïr. I don't need you to come with me this time. It should be safe," she assured quietly. He shifted his weight to his other leg.

"The Holy Land is _never _safe," he emphasized. "The outskirts of Damascus are not safe for a woman, let alone the Kingdom," he said. His eyes burned holes in her face. This was one of few opportunities she received to see even a little emotion in his face.

"I am aware. I will not be there long. Two days is all I need. If I don't return in that time, you can come for me." Raja looked up, catching his venomous glare. This was her duty to carry out. Not his.

"You must be cautious of everyone and everything." As if to say an oath, she placed her hand over her heart.

"I promise, Altaïr. As your peon, I will heed your words carefully," she joked, looking up to his face, finding that he was rolling his eyes at her last comment. Raja laughed to herself before she packed her clothes into a well-made sack and took her time down the stairs, with Altaïr in tow.

It took them quite a while to descend the steep hill the castle was situated on, walking through crowds of people in the village before reaching the tall gate.

A pure black horse awaited her, neighing and shaking its head. Her necessities were strapped on tight and the saddle was ready. Raja turned the assassin, extending her hand for a shake. This time, he took it, his large hand covering hers completely. She blushed immensely at their physical contact, then smiled.

"If you do not return, I'll have to find another slave." The words shocked her at first, but then she remembered she addressed herself as a peon.

"Altaïr!" she gasped, looking back at him. A dark smile played on his lips and then he disappeared among the crowds inside the gate.

'Strange behavior indeed!'

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Up ahead, Raja saw the familiar road leading away from Masyaf to the guard tower and then to the fork in the road, a stone with directions engraved on it. Should she trot the whole way, taking her time and avoiding the eyes of the guards scattered throughout the Kingdom, or should she ride hard and fast, causing trouble for herself along the way?

Riding slow would have been the logical choice, but Raja had been around Altair too long- his habits had rubbed off on her. Including loving the rush of the wind against his face at blinding speeds.

She cracked the reigns like a whip and the horse broke into a burst of speed, causing her head to jerk back and her grip on the leather reigns tighten. Her blue scarf lashed behind her like a tail and her eyes began to water. Mountains and trees passed by as a blur, and the guards' voices never reached her. It took Raja a moment to realize that she was riding Altaïr's favorite horse, Amin, who was smart and just as hotheaded as his owner. That was nice of him to lend his favorite steed to her. But now, she would have to be even more careful during her journey.

"How are you doing, Amin?" she whispered in his ear. In response, he slowed down to a gallop, then to a trot. He was tired, yet said nothing to let her know. Just like Altaïr.

"That'll do," she said, patting his muscled neck. They were just a few hours away from Damascus when the sun started to set. That was when she realized Damascus was too far away to reach before dark and the last inn she saw was a ways back. She was stuck right in the middle, and bandits came out of the caves in the Kingdom at night.

Amin was still too tired to return to his fast pace and ensure her safety, and Raja didn't want to overwork him. But the combination of being in the dark and being a woman was a very bad situation indeed. Raja did her best to remain calm and think of how she was going to make it to Damascus unharmed.

'Maybe Altaïr should've come with me. That was a stupid decision of mine. Hopefully, there aren't any bandits around here.'

Her hopes remained true until she saw a dark clad man stop in the path Amin was walking, carrying a long, shimmering sword in his hand.

"Hello there, beautiful. Do you mind telling me what you have in that bag?" he asked. Raja cursed in Arabic under her breath, then replied, "It's just some medicine. Nothing more. Now please let me by." He stood in his place, not yet satisfied.

"Perhaps you could show me."

"No I cannot. I really must be going." It must not have been the answer he expected, because three more men came from the surrounding foliage carrying knives. She couldn't fight them; there were too many and she had no weapon. One moved towards her and she had no choice but to let him tear her from her saddle.

To keep him from touching her face, Raja scratched and clawed any flesh she felt. The man pushed her to the dirt in the process of holding his bleeding cheek and neck. She at least felt satisfied with that, until another man grabbed her and tried to rip her shawl away.

"This looks nice," he said in slurred speech, his breath reeking of alcohol. Overwrought with the horrible stench, she punched him square in the face and tried to run. The first one to appear threw in a smooth backhand, cutting her cheek. The flesh bled and stung as she fell to the sand.

Dazed and disoriented, Raja could feel the man sit on her legs, keeping her from moving, and start to remove the top half of her sky blue dress.

"No. No," she managed to get out, her hands trying to hit his away. He hit her yet again, this time more forceful and drawing more blood. She was half conscious and no longer fighting, having given up. Her eyes were closed, but she could feel her shoulder straps being pulled down her arms, exposing the skin on her chest.

Before he could go further, a strong male voice yelled, "Unhand her!" It sounded a lot like Altaïr, but how could he know where she was? Had he followed her? Thank goodness if he did.

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End of chapter!


	19. We Meet Again

A/N: No comments this time. Just surprises! Enjoy!

Chapter Nineteen: We Meet Again

"Go find your own. This one's mine." The man on top of her started to continue until the second man unsheathed his sword. He stood up, unsheathing his and they fought for a brief moment before his body slumped to the floor.

The other previously injured bandits took off, leaving Raja and her savior alone. His sights turned to her body, who was still half aware of what was going on as she lay in the dirt, her hands weakly gripping the earth.

She lay there, thinking the man would have had his way with her and she would silently endure it, but whoever the approaching man was, Raja knew he didn't want to hurt her in any way. He easily lifted her up into his arms, just as a knight would have and carried her to his horse. The next hour was a blur to her as she fell into unconsciousness.

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A warm sensation on Raja's face caused her to stir and awaken long after the sun set and the moon rose, taking its place. Wherever she was, it was dimly lit by the fire emanating the warm rays on her cheeks, and the walls were rocky and jagged. She heard a horse bray over to her left; perhaps it was Amin keeping watch over her.

One of the blankets she packed rested on top of her and she peeled it off her dank body. Sitting up, she finally realized she was in a cave, somewhere in the arid, dry Kingdom along the way to Damascus. Her savior was nowhere around, the air still and dead.

But his sword lay unsheathed right by the fire, its embers reflecting off the blade. It looked just like Altaïr's sword, but thinner and much lighter, she realized when she picked it up to admire its beauty even more.

"Most women I know hate fighting," an Altaïr-ish voice echoed. She jumped, cutting her thumb on the sharp blade.

"Ah!" she exhaled sharply. He quickly appeared, hearing her small cry of pain. Raja had yet to look up as he immediately wrapped tattered cloth around her finger.

"I must have startled you," his kind voice said, guilt in his tone.

"It's alright, I-" Upon looking up, she stopped mid-thought, shocked to see Altaïr's face. He looked directly into her eyes, his brows furrowed in concern.

"What's wrong with my face?" he asked, patting his cheeks. Still failing to realize it was Asad, the man she met so long ago on the boat ride to Acre, Raja held his face in her hands, feeling the stubble under his skin on her palms. His eyes grew wide.

"I'm so glad you came for me." To show her gratitude, she kissed him, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. His eyes opened even wider in surprise as he unhooked her arms from around his neck.

"Thank you for that, but I merely saved you; I had no idea I'd run into you again in such a precarious situation."

"What are you talking about, Altaïr?" At the mention of his name, Asad's disposition changed for a brief moment, then he relaxed.

"I am not Altaïr. It's me; Asad. The man from the boat?" She sat back, thought for a moment, then covered her mouth in shock.

"Forgive me for such irrational behavior!" she pleaded.

He smiled subtly at her embarrassment.

"Think nothing of it. Obviously, you care a lot about this Altaïr. If you don't mind my asking, what is he like?"

"Well, he's very tall, tan, and handsome. He's kind of cold towards everyone, very arrogant and overconfident, but he means well and also brave."

"Aside from the bad things you mentioned, you sound as if you're describing me. What if he's merely an apparition?"

"He definitely isn't an apparition," she said dryly. She was rambling on and on as if she'd known Asad for years, when he was a near stranger.

"I see. Where were you headed all alone?"

"Um, to Damascus. I have some family business to take care of," she said quietly. He nodded in understanding.

"I was going to Damascus, also. Perhaps we can travel together?" His venomous eyes filled her mind with intimidation and anxiety, even though he wasn't trying to.

"That would be nice." But then it hit her—she told Altaïr he couldn't come with her, but here she was inviting Asad to go with her. She felt horrible, but she felt obliged to say yes because Asad was so kind and attractive.

'Raja, you can be _so_stupid sometimes!' she scolded herself.

"Very well. We will start off first thing in the morning."

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_I should have insisted that I go with her. It's not safe for a woman to be in the Kingdom all alone, even if Raja is strong. But she requested she go alone and I must respect her reasons for doing so._

Ever since Raja left, Altaïr thought about her every moment, like he had been the first time she left his sights three years ago. On instinct, he'd go to her room, expecting her to be there, waiting for him so they could bicker and argue like old people, and find an empty bed. He'd go to the kitchen, expecting her to be kneading dough and watching for his gloved hand trying to snatch a quick breakfast.

Even when he was holding Little Malik for Hifah sometimes, watching him sleep peacefully, he was thinking of Raja—her smile, her sultry voice and of course, the roundness of her backside he stared at when she wasn't paying attention. Mentally, he slapped himself. Why was he going on and on about a childish woman?

But then again, she was always trying to make the best of things between them, never worsen the situation. Over the many months he came to be around her, he grew accustomed to her attitude and could in fact, call her a friend, a title very few were given by him.

That was what impelled him to rest early that night.

He would set out early to ride for Damascus.

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"Raja, I have to admit, you are a really good cook. Where did you learn to prepare food like this?" Asad asked, his taste buds tingling from the spicy potatoes she made. It was past mid-morning and the dawn's mist was still in the air. The sun was burning bright, but the wind and air were icy cold. Their breaths came out as puffs of smoke, rising and disappearing before them.

"While in Banghezi, my mother taught me how to cook, but I made thesee on my own for my father one day and he loved them. So I remembered the recipe so others could taste them." He had another mouthful, chewing and swallowing them all at once.

"Is she still alive?" he asked, looking up at her curiously. She seemed distant when she spoke.

"No. She passed about a month ago." He nodded in understanding, his eyes narrow and serious.

"I'm sorry." Raja flashed a smile, trying to lighten the mood. Asad could still see the lament in her eyes.

"It's alright. It doesn't hurt to ask." After being reminded of her mother, Raja felt uneasy and tears were threatening to come pouring out. Asad stood up and wrapped his hands around her shoulders comfortingly.

"Is there something wrong?" His deep voice was directly in her ear and she had to tear away from him because he sounded too much like Altaïr, who she was also thinking of at the moment. The hands on her brought warm, fuzzy feelings to her troubled heart.

"I just need to be alone for a moment," she whispered as she walked away, trying to calm the mustered up feelings.

Raja walked a distance away from their makeshift camp, trying to clear her thoughts. Asad had followed her, going against her wishes.

"Raja, even though you don't know me well, I'm here to help you." She looked up at him, seeing the concern he had for her in his emerald green eyes. Raja saw nothing but an opening for comfort at that moment and she impulsively kissed him tenderly on the lips, wanting his love.

Asad returned her gesture, holding her close to his body. She ripped away from him soon after realizing her mistake.

"I'm so sorry, Asad. I don't know what has come over me." His feelings seemed a little hurt, hearing her go on and on about some other man identical to himself and not receiving any credit for being there to aid her. Raja finally came to her decision.

"Maybe I should leave, Asad. I keep doing things to confuse you. Goodbye," she said, going for her horse. After mounting her steed, she galloped hard and fast, hoping the rush of fresh morning air would snap her out of it. Raja felt like she betrayed the vow she made to herself. She snapped the reigns, wanting Amin to gallop faster. He obeyed, his hooves moving even faster through the sand, ignoring the guards that were nothing but a blur.

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After resting briefly in an inn, Raja sought to continue her objective of retrieving years of precious memories. It was a little after noon and the sun was high in the sky. The merchants were, as usual, trying to push over their goods to passersby and commoners trying to be on their way. That day was exceptionally busy and she didn't have the patience for noise and large crowds, so she pushed through them aimlessly until she could get to the southwest gate that led to her destination.

Upon arriving, she saw that it wouldn't be exactly the safest place for her, but her relics of the past were waiting for her.

An elderly man waited by her late father's old property, which was a lone, two story house with a planar three acre field. Despite the fact that it was desolate for so long, it still looked well taken care of. Raja had no memories of that place, her being in Banghezi most of her life until a few years ago.

The old man shifted nervously from foot to foot, a qualm in the creases on his face. Something seemed to be wrong, but she pressed on, being the determined person she was.

"Are you the man I am to see for my father's belongings?" she asked. His bluish eyes wandered over her face questioningly.

"Yes, I am. I'm his friend, Anees. You resemble him quite a lot."

"So I've heard. What is it that he left for me?" He motioned her to follow him and he led her though the inside of his beautifully furnished home. What was the purpose of this abode?

"All of the furniture, including this house, belongs to you. Whatever you wish to do to it, you can. It's yours now." As she admired the intricately carved ivory mirror on the lampstand, she asked, "Do you know why my father had this extra house?" When she didn't receive a reply, she turned around to see his face wrought with disappointment.

"He-he had a second family. After the birth of his last child in Banghezi, he fathered another here in Damascus. If you noticed when you were younger, he was always away on business, was he not?" Raja reflected for a moment, and realized that what he said was true. Her father only stayed to be with her and then would leave for weeks on end. It never bothered her because she was too occupied with younger siblings.

"Now that I think about it, yes. He was always away. That cheating bastard," she said hatefully, clenching her fist in anger, trying to hold back tears. Anees saw her anguish and reassured, "Whenever he was away, he'd speak of a beautiful daughter at home waiting for him. He went on and on about you and how you were so promising. He loved you very much." That was when she let the tears flow from her eyes.

"I know he loved me, but it's unfair to my siblings. They went without knowing their father didn't care for them. And now they'll never know because they're dead," she said through sobs.

"I'm sorry, my child. I wish there was something I could do." She recollected herself quickly, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her dress.

"There is something you can do. Watch over my father's things until you pass on, but before that, burn them, so that there is no recollection of his time here. That is all." It took a moment for him to understand her request and he nodded.

"I can do that much for you. Farewell," he said before returning to the house. As she started out back down the road, she heard a hair-raising scream erupt from the house. She turned and to her horror, saw Anees walk out from the door way with a dagger lodged in the middle of his chest.

"Anees!" she screeched as she caught the elderly man millimeters from the ground. His once tanned skin was paling as his life poured into the dirt.

"I'm so sorry..." he whispered before falling asleep in death. Raja laid him down gently, the front of her once white dress now stained sinfully red with his blood.

She stood tall, waiting to see the person responsible for killing Anees, an innocent old man who had done nothing to deserve such a painful death. When her eyes fell upon the slaughterer, she had no choice but to gasp.

"Asad, why?" she begged in a strained voice. He didn't seem to be a killer. He was so nice, so kind to her.

Asad took a step closer to her, his blood-red cloak blowing in the wind.

"Because, Raja. You're in love with my twin brother, Altaïr."

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Dun nah nun! Soap opera kind of twist, I know. The relationship ties will be explained. Thank you!


	20. Revenge

A/N: Sorry for the huge cliff hanger, pinkrollingstone. Didn't think you'd get so riled up. ^_^ Anywho, let's find out what happens!

Chapter Twenty: Revenge

Raja couldn't believe her ears. Altaïr had a twin he never spoke of? Maybe he didn't know about Asad. They could've been separated right after birth.

She'd be able to find that out if she could survive. Asad's eyes were no longer doe-like and innocent—they were now sharp and green, splitting her soul in profound qualm. Maybe that scowl ran in the family. Now backing away slowly, she asked, "Are you planning on killing me?"

He had a crazed smile on his face.

"Not at all. I want you for myself. Now, if you decide to retaliate, well..." He looked to the sky and she tried to run, but he moved swiftly and tossed her over his shoulder. As he carried her inside, despite her loud protests and punching, he spoke, "My brother failed to realize he let such a comely woman go. He doesn't deserve you."

'Asad, you don't realize that no one deserves me and I deserve no one.'What was probably her father's bed was in front of them, the blankets untouched by time. He laid her down gently on the bed and sat on the edge. It was best that she not try to run again, so she lay still and listened further. 'Maybe he won't try to bed me if I listen long enough.'

"Why are you angry at your brother?" she asked.

"He was better than me at everything. My father praised him all day while I stood in the background, alone. When Al Mualim* came to choose one of us, he made us fight to see who was better. Altaïr pulled out victorious and he left for Masyaf that day 25 years ago. I was left in Sana'a*, tending to cattle, while he got to leave and be a well-known assassin!"

"There was nothing Altaïr could do. If he had the stronger will, then maybe it was better for him to go," she justified with a soft voice. He stared into her eyes the way Altaïr did, studying her character.

"No. I was cheated by fate. He had so many health problems as a child. He couldn't even swim, for goodness' sake!" he cried, standing up to look out the window.

"I'm sorry this has happened to you, Asad." She stood next to him, holding his hand in hers. Hopefully that would convince him to let her go, but it instead made him want Raja even more. He grabbed her shoulders, and pushed his lips against hers, tasting her warmth. Asad pushed her back onto the bed, then dove on top of her, hungrily kissing her again. He started biting her neck, drawing blood.

"Ouch!" she yelped at the sharp pain. Asad continued, never stopping his attack. He was getting to be too rough, like Tauraj all those years ago...

Raja told herself that that would never happen again.

"No!" she screamed, reaching for the closest dagger and plunging it deep into his flesh.

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Altaïr arrived at Damascus around noon. He sneaked in the usual way—blending in with the four scholars who never failed to be outside the gates. Once inside, he searched for the path that led to the older part of the city, where Raja said she'd be.

For some reason, he was uneasy, easily distracted by noise, and slightly anxious. Almost frantically, he looked around for her, scanning faces that looked like hers.

He finally calmed down and made his way through the crowd in a straight line for Old Damascus.

Once there, he glanced over the old buildings, finding no signs of life except one dirty little child, playing in the dirt. He approached quickly and knelt down to the little boy's position on the ground.

"Have you seen a woman, rather tall around here?" he asked.

"Yes. She went to the Old Rich District." Altaïr gladly gave him ten gold coins and went on his way, half jogging, half walking past the abandoned houses, searching the darkened windows for moving figures. All the homes provided no relief to his anxiety.

Just as he was going to return to the little boy for more questioning, (and a little scolding for giving him the wrong directions) he came upon a large, lone house. Lying very near to the door way was Anees, eyes closed in the sleep of the dead. Altaïr checked the temperature of his blood. It was still warm and fluid, so he'd just been killed.

To confirm his suspicions, he heard a familiar voice scream, "No!" Without hesitation, he recognized it as Raja's, a desperate cry for help, and he entered the house, moving up the stairs light as a feather. What he saw before him at the top of the staircase brought fury like no other.

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Raja was too shocked by the trauma done to her body to react. Asad hadn't stabbed her. He gave her a hard punch in the face, using his complete strength after she stabbed him with his own blade. He had done it out of rage and tried to better the situation by trying to wake her up. But she didn't budge; she lay still on the bed, her lip busted and bleeding.

"Get away from her!" he hissed, unsheathing his sword. Asad obeyed, standing to his full height, which was about an inch taller than his older brother.

"You don't remember me?" he asked with an icy tone. Altaïr let his guard down a little, trying to analyze the voice.

"It couldn't be," he said in disbelief.

"That's right, big brother. It's me, Asad. The rejected twin."

"All these years I thought you'd moved on from that, Asad. An assassin is not a way of life you'd want."

"Oh, but it is. All these years, I've heard of your continuous success and I got even more envious every time. Herding cattle is tedious. Our parents never approved of what I did, but yet they praised you, their gifted child. I hate you!" he spat.

"Then I guess there is no convincing you. I would never want to kill my own blood, but if I must..." He raised his sword and Asad unsheathed his.

Asad attacked first, coming in strong and low, but Altaïr deflected it easily, knocking his blade down with his own and backhanding him in the face. The younger one stumbled back, then came in again, this time swift and aiming for his neck. The older barely dodged it and swung at his chest, drawing blood and destroying the front of Asad's robes.

"Damn you!" he swore, jumping out the window, hoping Altaïr would give chase. He would have, but he stopped to check on the woman whom he thought was deceased.

His calloused hand touched her cheek and she stirred a little, moaning softly. Altaïr replaced his sword and checked her bruises.

"Raja?" he whispered into her ear. Her eyes opened. Blinked once. Twice. She thought it was Asad and she tried to crawl away.

"No! No, no!," she pleaded. He pleaded her name softly.

"Raja, it's me. Altaïr. I came for you." Recognition came soon and she was overwhelmed with joy. Tears formed in her eyes and she buried her face in his chest. He tensed up and was tempted to back away, but he sensed that she needed a little support to get back on her feet.

"Altaïr..." He ushered her to the bed to sit down and get out of his way. The last thing he needed was for her to get hurt because of him yet _again._

"You must stay here. Asad wishes to kill me." Before she could get anything out, he was gone out the window, newly found vigor pumping through his veins.

'He won't punch me in the face and get away with it!'she protested, scurrying down the stairs as quickly as she could in a dress.

The fight continued near the edge of town, at a deserted port with rotting, forgotten boats stationed there. Asad was tiring out Altaïr, who was stronger, but slower and him weaker but faster.

Altaïr slipped up a little, losing his footing in this sword fight, and got a clean swipe across his stomach. He gritted his teeth, fighting the pain and continued defending himself against the never-ending attacks.

"You see, I am a better fighter than you!" he yelled. Altaïr saw an opening in front of Asad, a barrel light enough to kick and he booted it in his direction causing him to fall backwards.

"So you say," Altaïr growled, revealing his hidden blade as he went for his brother's neck. He avoided the intentionally lethal blow and broke his brother's hidden blade in two, one piece lodged into the wooden dock, and punched him. Altaïr fell back and Asad stabbed him in the stomach where the other wound still bled. He grunted in pain, his blood flowing from his body and into the water below. He was dying, but he was still fighting, the desire to end his mad brother's hatred burning inside him.

Asad stabbed him again, this time in his shoulder.

"Why don't you just die?" he grumbled, dragging him by his arms. They were getting closer and closer to the edge. "You never learned to swim, did you, Altaïr?" He tried to get out of his grasp, but with the combination of quickly losing blood and slipping into unconsciousness, Altaïr had no strength to fight.

Raja was some distance away, just a few feet from the dock. Her eyes were wet with tears, watching the assassin being handled like raw meat. She had never seen him so helpless, it looked so unnatural.

"Raja, you arrived just in time to see Altaïr die! I'm not sure if he told you, but he never learned to swim!" he yelled at her. She had a dagger behind her back, and she was standing positioned in a way to have a perfect shot at his chest.

Altaïr had shown her how to use his daggers once before at the sparring ring and that was all it took.

'I only have one shot at this...'

With one snap of her wrist, Raja hurled the blade, watching it speed through the air and land dead in the middle of his chest. Asad coughed up his blood, laughing.

"That...doesn't...change...anything." He threw Altaïr into the water, then threw his own dagger at her, one she didn't expect to pierce her rib cage.

"Aah!" she screamed, grasping the handle.

"We all die," he whispered, then fell into his watery grave, along with his brother.

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Another great cliffhanger! Review please! Chapter 21: Revised will be up very soon. Promise. ^_^


	21. I Told You Before

A/N: The last chapter was quite nerve-wrecking wasn't it? This chapter focuses on Raja's heroics before her downfall...Did I say that? Next chapter!

Chapter 21: I Told You Before

The dagger had definitely hit flesh and blood, but not as deep as suspected. Raja had bound her bosom tightly before dressing, so the pain was bearable. The blood seeped out the wound slowly, adding another stain to her dress as she ran to the edge of the dock.

The water was still bubbling from the disturbance of the two bodies. Time and energy was running out, so she concluded she'd have to go down into the deeps of the water and retrieve Altaïr before he died.

If he wasn't already dead. The thought of not living with the smart-mouthed assassin by her side to keep her company compelled her to disrobe quickly and dive into the water. Swimming was another one of the treasures her father had given her.

The water was dark and murky, its contents being small fish and old roots floating around. Just as she was nearing the bottom, she saw a red-cloaked figure resting on the seabed, eyes closed. The dagger she lodged in his chest was still there, a sign he was surely dead. Altaïr had to be somewhere around.

Her air was depleting and she'd have to resurface soon.

Raja searched again with her eyes and finally caught sight of him, entangled in seaweed. She swam over to him quickly and started pulling the plants off of him. He looked so pale underwater.

Finally managing to get him free, Raja grabbed him around the waist and made her way towards the top, desperate to reach air and tend to Altaïr's wounds. Small, red circles popped up in her eyes and her lungs were filling with water. The shifting sand near the shore provided her anchorage as she climbed to dry land.

Using all her strength, Raja pushed him into the sand and heaved out all the water she swallowed. Rattling coughs shook her body as she scooted next to Altaïr. He wasn't breathing.

Her heart thudded loudly in her chest as she dragged him away from the shore. She built a small fire, trying to warm herself and the dying assassin.

"Altaïr, don't you die on me," she said, pressing down on his chest over and over again. Stopping for a moment, she parted his lips and breathed into him, trying to force air into his lungs. She tried again, doing the same steps, and nothing resulted from it.

"Altaïr, wake up!" she screamed before punching him in the chest. That last effort made him awake from his deathly slumber. He coughed once, sitting up, and threw up all the water in his lungs, then collapsed back to the ground. He was breathing heavily for a moment, then it quieted down. Right away, she started removing his gauntlets, then his hood, belt and lastly, his robes.

Thankfully, Amin had followed them to the docks, for he was carrying all her supplies, which included bandages she packed just in case of injuries. Altaïr taught her that when she first arrived.

Raja started with the cut across his chest—it was still seeping out blood and could easily get infected. She went for his vials on his belt and poured all of the liquid into the wound, hearing it sizzle as it worked.

Wrapping the bandages around him would prove to be more strenuous, with his back being so broad. It took a lot of effort to sit him up in between her legs while she wrapped the white cloth around a few times, then tucked it in.

The wound on his shoulder was small, but deep, and it didn't take long to patch up.

Raja was sweating from all the hard work she put into helping him and gladly welcomed the wind to calm her down. After retrieving her gourd, she placed it between his lips and forced water down his throat to hydrate him.

The sun was already beginning to set. Amin grabbed part of the blanket with his teeth and laid it over his master, trying to keep him warm.

"Thank you, Amin," Raja whispered to the stallion. The black horse settled in the dirt next to her, protecting her from the wind in nothing but her undergarments.

She touched his face—it felt so cold under her fingers. Raja added more wood to the fire with haste, the orange embers growing more intense with each piece of wood it was fed. Soon, the heat was so powerful, it burned the front of her legs. Altaïr needed more cover than herself, so she gave him the heavier of the blankets.

The itchy gray blanket she had would do, just for that night. After that, he'd have to give her favorite cover back.

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The next morning, Raja awoke early; she'd fallen asleep fairly early in the evening the night before. But she desperately needed the rest. Her eyes blinked once in the semi-dark dawn, trying to shake the remaining sleep from her eyes. She peeked over at the form across from her. Altaïr was still sleeping, or was he in fact, dead? The Assassins wouldn't appreciate losing such a skilled brother and she'd probably receive the worst punishment.

A slight breeze blew the hair on the crown of her head gently as she sat up, stretched, then yawned loudly. Amin had his muzzle in the sand as he breathed heavily in his sleep.

'What am I going to wear since my dress is covered in blood?' she asked herself. Raja looked through her belongings for extra dresses and found one, a gray and blue peasant-style dress that tied down the front. One of the few dresses she managed to sew after seeing an English woman in Acre wearing one just like it. She slid it over her head then started tying the front. Her eyes wandered to his sleeping form again, taking in the tranquil face just above the brink of the blanket.

'He wouldn't be so scary if he wasn't so cold.'He shifted a little, then started snoring loudly. She turned her head away, stifling a laugh to keep him from waking. For someone so silent when on the move, he certainly did make a lot of noise when he wasn't!

'Maybe I should start on breakfast.'There was still plenty of food in her bag—at least two uncrushed eggs, some raw cow meat and two apples. That should be enough to last them for the rest of the day. She took out the pots and makeshift utensils after starting another fire, then sought to make _something_ out of the things she had.

As the aromas filled the air, Altaïr stirred out of his sleep, opening his eyes slowly. His eyes wandered to her crouching form.

_Adha**?...**_he thought, almost subconsciously reaching out to her. When he realized it was Raja, he broke out of the illusion and waited for her to acknowledge his consciousness. He sneezed loudly once and she settled next to his body in the sand. A blank face studied his features.

"You're still alive," she exhaled. A wave of relief overcame her. Now she didn't have to explain the assassin's death to Malik.

"Is that a good thing for you?" he asked.

"Yes! Malik and your brothers would be furious if I came back with you wrapped in white cloth, which would have been a waste considering I swam through that sea water to save you." He snorted at her remark. His eyes focused on her.

"What happened to Asad?" He had a hint of concern in his voice. She swallowed before replying.

"He's dead."

"I understand. The hate he had in his heart would have eventually consumed his entire being in the end. He would have driven himself mad." Altaïr sat up straight, passing a hand over the bandages covering his chest, then slipped his robes back over his head, despite the blood stains and tears in it. Surprisingly, he was able to stand on his own, never stumbling once.

"You really shouldn't move around, Altaïr," she suggested, standing up a little too quickly. The rush of blood to her head made her light-headed and she passed out into the sand with just a sigh.

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A cold sensation on her head shook Raja's mind from its deep sleep as she lay. Her chest felt tighter and she felt the new, dry bandages wrapped around her upper body. Altaïr had treated her wound after she fainted.

"You have a fever," Altaïr stated matter-of-factly. She looked to her right—he was still fully clothed, torn white robes and all. It looked as if he didn't almost die the day before, but she could see he was still a little pale. As long as he was alright, she was content.

"Where have I heard that before?" she said with a smile, recalling the time she went into the river to retrieve some laundry and got sick as a result.

"You went into the river to get some clothes that could have been easily replaced. Why is it that you're always so gallant?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"The corrupt priest, Hifah's baby, your father, killing Asad, and rescuing me—all were involving lives, including your own—knowing you might have died?"

She thought hard for a moment, and came up with no explanation.

"I don't know, Altaïr. It's innate. I was born and raised always wanting to do what was right, no matter the cost."

"I really don't understand you," he sighed, shaking his hooded head.

"Are you supposed to find out what goes through my mind?" she asked.

"No. I prefer not to delve into the thoughts of a crazed mind such as yours." Raja glared at him and a hint of a smile tugged at one side of his lips.

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Aw! They're becoming friends! Finally! See what happens next when you review this chapter again! Be sure to check my profile for the most recent news on my stories. Thanks!


	22. A New Journey

A/N: Since so many people have been leaving requests for more chapters, I guess I have to keep going on this story for their sake. Thank you all for reading my work. It'll be a little longer between updates b/c I have to think of more conflicts for the story. But don't worry, no one will be disappointed!

Chapter 22: A New Journey

"Perhaps it is time we returned to Masyaf," he said, the crack of a grin long gone from his face.

"Yes, it is," she said solemnly.

Their trusted steeds awaited them, anxious to get on the road and stretch their legs. As they passed by her father's home, she remembered what she had to do since Anees was no longer in this world.

"Wait. There is something I must do first," she said barely above a whisper as she dismounted. Altaïr silently followed her into the house, where she had seemingly disappeared. He stilled, listening for her movements, which were soft footsteps in the living room.

Raja evaluated her father's belongings, and found them to be worthless: a few oil lamps, outdated books, old furniture, baby's clothing. A large, leather bound book that appeared to be a journal of some sort sat lonely on the bookshelf. She picked it up and ran her fingers over the leather cover and read the words on the front: "My Beloved Atiya." Raja reread the title, then flipped through the pages. Wait—this journal was in her father's handwriting, but it was about her mother, someone he wouldn't mention in this household with another woman as his wife. Did he leave it there for her to discover on purpose?

One passage read: **_February 24, 1192_**

**_"It has been eight months since Ajram was born, and 4 years since I last saw my family in Banghezi before the raid. I miss my children so—Allah be with them, dead or alive. He's grown so much—maybe he will be as tall as his father, eh? Zeirah is still bedridden and her baby cries for his mother. I don't know what to do with him—he is not my child."_** Another discovery—her father didn't sire a second family. Who was he visiting so often in Old Damascus, then? She read on in hopes to find out.

**_"My sister may not leave her bed for another week or so; therefore, I will have to take care of my nephew for now. My beautiful Atiya, I never wanted to abandon you or my precious children for such long periods of time, but my sister urgently needed my help. You see, her son was fathered by a Templar in one night of lust. When he heard of her parturiency, he immediately came to see her, which was about four months ago. They loved each other so much—even I could see that. He looked upon his son, a look I'd never forget. There was so much love in his eyes._**

**_Scipio, one of my Brothers, wished to take the both of them with him back to Italy so they could live as a family, but Zeirah furiously objected. She said they would never accept her in Catholic society as a Muslim woman and would ridicule her for loving an Italian man. He saw truth in her words and proposed to take his son, give him a new name and raise him. We all could see the boy could pass for European—unique, turquoise eyes, dark brown hair and pale skin. With great sadness, she agreed and he departed with the boy for Rome two days later. Scipio agreed to send letters frequently to let her know she wasn't forgotten._**

**_Unfortunately, after two months, the letters abruptly ceased and Zeirah was heartbroken. She decided to return to Banghezi alone, and rebuild her life alone. This house I purchased for her will soon go to my dearest Raja, and Anees will make sure of that._**

**_My dear Atiya, I write this to you because I know you are smart enough to escape the Templars in Alexandria, but if you haven't received my latest letters, then you will never read this journal. _**

**_Your daughter, on the other hand, always follows the cookie crumbs and she may be reading the contents of this book right now. I have sent my letter to Raja, knowing she is living in Crete, even though it will take some time to reach her. I hope she has continued searching for me, for I have a large task for her to accomplish: return Ajram to his mother in Banghazi. Word has spread about Scipio's death—perhaps the workings of the Italian division of the Assassins. Knowing my brilliant and promising daughter, she will find me before my imminent death—the Assassins are targeting Templars, killing all of those around me. _**

**_I know this is a large request for a woman, but I know she could do it. In the drawer by my sister's bed is a large sack of denier—about 900—for this task, which should be enough for food, shelter, and the fee for traveling so far. I believe in you, Raja._**

**_If we will never see each other again, I am saying goodbye in this passage. I love you, my darling wife. I always have and I always will._**

**_-With All My Love, Talil"_**

By the end of the letter, Raja was moved to tears, but she was so overwhelmed with emotion, she could not bring herself to cry. Altaïr had been standing there the whole time, patiently waiting. The floorboard under his feet creaked and she jumped.

"Altaïr. I did not know you were standing there. This book," she said, holding it in the air," Speaks of so many secrets my father wanted me to read. Here I was, hating him, thinking he abandoned my family and I for some harlot. But he has a sister, who lives in Banghezi, who made love with and was impregnated by a Templar. She was here for some time and my brother was taking care of her. I'm such a horrible person for always assuming the worst."

"You assumed your father was leading a double life; we all make mistakes. Whether it was true he was having an affair or not, you had the right to be angry. He was hiding things from you." Altaïr's tongue felt sticky after his last statement—_he_ never made mistakes in all his dealings.

"What are you to do with all these possessions?" he asked, evaluating the junk around him. As an assassin—and as a tidy person himself—the best way to move efficiently was to carry as little as possible. Even if she wanted to take some things, he would not let her; he was the superior being.

"I will burn them all," she said, kneeling to look at an old sculpture.

She stood up straight and went for one of the lanterns to set fire to the house. He browsed the old house one more time, then headed to the outside after smelling burnt wood.

Raja was already on her horse, watching the orange flames engulf every memory she never had. Altaïr sat atop his trusty horse and they galloped away with just the book as the gray ashes in the air turned into nothing in the wind.

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The ride home was silent as always, but this ride was eerily silent. Each of the two had a lot on their mind that they wanted to ask.

'I appreciate my father's trust, but why must I travel all the way to _Italy_? That's two thousand miles away. If I ask Altaïr about this, he'd die after choking me to death first. But I _must_ deliver my aunt her son—she misses him so.'

_She has been silent this whole time. Usually, she's trying to argue with me about something senseless. Maybe that book is what's troubling her, a disturbing passage perhaps? I've never seen her so glum before._

Upon arriving at the gate, they dismounted simultaneously and stabled their horses. Before going inside, they hesitated and turned to each other. She was waiting for him to say something and he awaited her voice, as well.

"Is something bothering you?" he asked.

Raja looked away from his basilisk stare for a moment, readying herself, then began.

"Maybe we should go speak somewhere in private, Altaïr." He led her to the city well, where they could speak of anything and go unnoticed as people mainly kept to themselves. Raja sat on the edge, admiring the craftsmanship of the cistern before she spoke. "The journal my father wrote left more than a farewell. He left instructions for me."

"And?"

"He wants me to go to Italy." She squinted her eyes shut, expecting to hear every curse word in Arabic, but her ears received none.

"Why?"

"My aunt's child is there. She wishes to see him so badly. My father left me money to go, I could go alone if you don't want to go, I won't be away long, I'll be fine on my own, really-" she blurted out like rapid fire before he stopped her with his own words.

"If Italy is where you need to go, then I'll accompany you. I cannot risk you causing trouble in _two_ countries." She smiled brightly, a smile he'd never seen before.

"Thank you, Altaïr," she sighed, attempting to give him a hug. He placed his hand on her shoulder to stop her short, nodding his head. Raja laughed at his strong reluctance to touch her.

Altaïr shook his head, then started to climb up the hill to the fortress.

"We'll have to discuss this with Malik."

Yeah! Another chapter finished and a new plot ensues! Just for my readers and fans! This chapter was really hard to write considering the fact that I had to change it from being the end to another story line. Show some love! =)


	23. Making Preparations

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to write this chapter. Stuff keeps coming up and getting in the way. This chapter will be very good and also funny. Enjoy!

Chapter Twenty-Three: Making Preparations

Raja followed close behind him up the hill, the dust kicked up by his boots blowing in the wind. She was looking at all the citizens going about in their daily lives when she failed to notice Altaïr had stopped walking. She ran face first into his back and fell onto her bottom, hard. The rocky soil was most unpleasant against her body.

"Ouch!" she whined as she rubbed her posterior. Altaïr was like a solid brick wall, unmoving and definite in form.

"You have to be careful," he rebuked, not hesitating to help her off the ground.

"Thank you for being so manly about it and helping me off the ground," she said, her words dripping with sarcasm. He ignored her words and she wondered why, but the wondering was over as soon as she heard Malik start to speak.

"Ah, you two have returned earlier than anticipated. Did you forget contraceptives?" he asked jokingly. Raja's complexion grew pale and Altaïr's bottom jaw clenched tight. Malik could barely contain himself as he tilted his head back and burst out in laughter. A few passersby turned their heads in the three's direction at the sudden salvo of emotion.

"You should have seen your faces! It's so easy to make you angry, Altaïr, and I can see Raja is the same way. You two will get along very well in the future. Why stand outside, let's talk in the castle." They followed close behind him up the hill that brought back memories of the first time they met. Well, Altaïr was chasing her down after she intruded into his home. Raja could remember being scared to death of being caught as she ran and being so angry when he grabbed her. If he hadn't, they'd never have met and their friendship wouldn't have been forged.

They entered the castle and ascended the stairs to the table where Al Mualim's belongings used to sit so long ago. The desk was now covered in highly detailed maps and compasses. Hifah was at the window, with Little Malik in her arms and rocking him to sleep. It was a tender sight to see before the 'nurse' of the castle took the baby away to give her a break from mothering. Hifah's eyes seemed weary at first as they fell upon their approaching forms, but at recognizing the woman as Raja, she readily brought her sister into a vice-like embrace, negligent that she was putting pressure on her wound. Raja ignored the pain as she returned the love.

"Raja, my sister, you have come back! How was your trip?" she asked. The extra fat in her face made her cheeks look puffy and swollen. And her body was round and soft, like she'd been padded from shoulder to thigh with pillows.

'If getting pregnant does all this to your body, then forget it!' Raja thought before replying.

"It was a lot more eventful than I imagined," she said, recalling the deathly encounter with Asad and pushed the dark thought away, asking, "How is Little Malik?" Hifah sighed, then wiped the thin layer of sweat from her forehead. Her eyes lost their shimmer.

"Fine. Madra thinks he may be ill, so she takes care of him most days now." Altaïr cleared his throat and shot her a look of impatience. Raja nodded and turned to Hifah, who took the hint as well.

"We can talk some more later, Raja. It seems Altaïr is getting impatient." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, watching her take her place by Malik.

"Alright, what is it that is so important?" Malik asked. Raja stepped forward, chewed on her tongue nervously, then spoke up.

"My father wishes that I travel to Italy. His sister's son is there and she wishes to have him with her in Banghezi. He mentioned Templars and Assassins in his letter. All I ask is permission to go, with Altaïr to come along in case anything happens." He stared hard at the ground for a moment.

"Italy? That would be a very expensive journey."

"My father has provided me with the necessary funding." He looked directly into her eyes, then paced around the room for a moment. Coming to a conclusion, he stopped in his tracks. Raja anticipated the worst to fall upon her ears.

"Then what's stopping you?" he asked, quite excited by this news. Raja exhaled, no longer tense, but wasn't quite ready for Malik's next statement.

"Before you two leave, you must be married."

"What?" Raja blurted out before Altaïr could process his words. Malik gave her a dark smile.

"Yes. You must be married in order to travel out of the country together. It would arouse suspicion among the citizens if you two were traveling as companions. I'll perform the ceremony this evening so that you may get a head start on this quest."

"Tonight?" she asked, biting her thumb nail. It nearly bled from the pressure of her teeth. She looked to Altaïr for some alternative, but he paid no attention to her as he sauntered down the stairs, perhaps to his room. From her current position, Raja could hear Malik outside announcing the 'good' news.

"Altair is finally getting married!" followed by roaring applause and cheering that echoed through the halls. Perhaps his brethren had been waiting all these years for him to finally settle down. Raja rolled her eyes as she ascended the stairs to her room.

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Raja threw up two times before Hifah came knocking on her door with a damp towel. She was lying face up with a pale green tint to her cheeks. Whatever it was that was making her upset, it wasn't leaving her body and going into the bucket.

"Raja, are you alright? One of the other women overheard you throwing up." The sickly woman rolled over onto her stomach. The world seemed to spin in all directions when she moved. Her eyes were swimming in her head like fish in a bowl.

"I've never thrown up two times in a row before, Hifah. Am I supposed to be this sick before I get married?" she groaned. The light coming from the lantern was irritating her eyes to a serious degree.

"Some women are. Relax, sister. It's not like you're _really _getting married. The usual obligations of a wife don't apply—this is only temporary." Hifah's voice seemed cheery, hopeful even.

"What do you mean?" As she cleaned Raja's face, Hifah explained, "It's a legal marriage but it's without vows. You don't have to cook for him, clean up after him, nor lay with him when he wants to." After Hifah finished, Raja ran a hand through her hair.

"That is a good thing. Altaïr doesn't seem to be the type, either. Thank goodness he wishes me dead," she shivered.

"I'm sure he doesn't hate you. Maybe just not attracted to you in any way."

"It's better for me that way," Raja commented, wiping her already sweaty face. She looked into Hifah's brown eyes.

"I think I'm going to run away."

"Don't try to run away, Raja. That will be the worst decision ever. Altaïr will be upset, having to chase his bride and all." A second later, they burst out laughing. The more they laughed, the better she felt about it and the weight in her belly began to lighten little by little as the time went by. Evening was just around the corner and Raja and Hifah were struggling to find an appropriate gown for her ceremony. All of her dresses were either too revealing or too small and were the wrong color.

"Hifah, did you really have to wear red and white? It looks like those are the _only_colors I don't have." Raja tossed more articles of clothing to the floor. Her chest was nearly empty now and the situation was looking bleak.

"Yes, you cannot marry without wearing the Assassin's colors. It's a symbol of loyalty to their cause."

"Well, I guess I can't get married," she said quickly, plopping down onto her bed. Hifah put her hands on her hips, tapping her foot.

"Come on, Raja. You can't give up so easily! You need this man to save your nephew, and now you're gonna marry him, whether you want to or not!"

"You can't make me!" Raja protested, trying to run out the door. Hifah grabbed her around the waist, trying to tear her hands off the door. Her fingers began to turn white at the tips since she was holding on so tight. This little woman was surprisingly strong.

"No!" The two girls struggled, with the poor door stuck between them about to tear off the hinges.

"Come on, Raja! You'll never get to your nephew if you don't go through with this!" Raja thought for a moment, then let go of the door.

"Fine," she sighed, digging through her wooden chest for more clothes. It was so much easier to just run away and go back to Crete. More brown dresses upon brown dresses until she finally came upon a white, short-sleeved dress with at least ten skirts, every other a deep red. The neck line was right below the collarbone with red lace down the middle.

"Beautiful," Hifah breathed, admiring the intricate tailoring of the dress as Raja held it in the air. She frowned a little, disappointed that she actually managed to find something to wear.

"I knew you had something!" she said, clapping her hands excitedly.

"Now get dressed so I can help you with your hair." Raja slipped out of the dress she made and slipped on the new one, which fit perfectly in all the right places. She put on her only pair of red slippers and sat down on her bed. This was the last day she'd spend being single for a long while.

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_I cannot believe I have to go through with this. I thought Malik was joking. After this ceremony is done, things will be the same as before. After I help her save her nephew, this marriage is over _Altaïr concluded. He could not believe his ears as much as Raja couldn't. It would take a long while to grow accustomed to having a life-long companion. Well, not life-long, but even a few months committed to this woman was too extensive.

Guiding his thoughts away from such inevitable conclusions, the assassin replaced his gauntlet on his arm and headed down the stairs.

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Altaïr stood patiently by his old master's desk, dressed and ready to get this over with. He hated not being occupied with something to do. Malik stood behind the desk, eyes watching the door for the two women.

The inside of the main room of the castle had been completely transformed. The stairs had a blood-red rug over them, each step holding a lightly scented candle. The railings had white cloth wrapped around them like vines and the desk was covered in red and white flowers of all sorts: orchids, tulips and so forth and so on.

The sun had set just moments ago and the candles were melting rather quickly under the flames. Where was Raja?

Intolerance was getting the best of him at the moment, as it would in any other predicament he didn't want to be in for too long. Just when he thought of forgetting about all this to retire to his room, he heard a light ruffle of clothing in the wind.

Finally, she arrived, a large bouquet of blood orchids in her hands, with Hifah next to her, both of them wearing the order's colors respectfully. For once, Altaïr had to admit she could look like the ideal woman when she wanted to. Raja's eyes met his. Her eyes were shadowed with a charcoal black eye makeup to bring out the color of her hazel eyes, with a pale brown blush on her cheeks and red gloss on her lips. And her hair was braided straight back into a ponytail. She wore the Assassin pendant on her neck as well.

Altaïr's eyes focused back on her face, that was now right across from his. She gave him a wry smile, like someone was sticking a knife in her back and making her show some likeness towards him.

They both turned to Malik, who opened the Book of the Creed and placed it on the desk, reading from it in Arabic: "From now on, you both live by the Creed as one. You will not stray from the three tenets as long as you both shall live. This marriage will be recorded for the centuries to come. Assassin and wife serve together, bleed together, and die together. The Book of the Creed has spoken."

They both signed their name on a page full of other signatures. Some hundreds of years old, others very recent, the black ink still bold on the parchment.

_Assassins **do **get married, then _she concluded, setting the feather back on the desk. Malik closed the book.

"Altaïr, you must dip your fingers in this dye and mark your wife with the symbol of the Assassins." He obeyed, dipping two fingers in the red substance and made the A shape on her neck as swiftly as possible.

"Raja, you must draw your own blood and place it upon your husband, to symbolize your possession of his body and from now on, you will never lie with another man or Altaïr will have the freedom to take your life as a consequence of that action."

Reluctantly, she took a knife off the desk and made a small cut on her finger. She made the A symbol on his cheek, then lowered her hand. If this were any other occasion, he'd have chopped her arm off.

"Now you both must say, 'We live for the Creed for as long as we are alive.'" They repeated it in Arabic in unison and Malik gave a white gold ring to Altaïr. He took it and placed it on Raja's ring finger. It shone brilliantly in the candlelight. If she really were to be getting married, the ring would satisfy her enough to keep away the sadness of being forever tied to this man.

"Now you are assassin and wife. A kiss would be appropriate at this time."

"Excuse me?" Raja asked, glaring at Malik with wide eyes. He nodded his head towards Altaïr, indicating she had to do it since the disgruntled assassin would not. Sighing, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek, which felt more like a pin prick on her lips. He shot her an ominous look.

"Don't think for one moment you'll get any more from me," she hissed.

"It never crossed my mind," he replied. They pulled away from each other and Malik hugged them both.

"Congratulations! Altaïr, I'm proud of you." Tears welled up in his eyes and he had to be led out by Hifah, who was tickled by her husband's sensitive emotions.

"You two have to start getting along before you leave for Italy. Oh, and by the way, Malik had your rooms emptied..."

"What?" Altaïr said.

"...And moved all your belongings to the last couples' room," she added quickly before disappearing out the door to avoid hearing their string of complaints.

"This isn't happening. I'm stuck in a room with you," Raja said absent-mindedly.

"It's not something I want to believe as reality, either," he admitted. With the sacrament finally behind them, the pair ascended the stairs to the top floor, containing the only room on the level, just for them. The door had a 'Do Not Disturb' sign hanging from it, perhaps the courtesy of a certain one-armed assassin...

_I will make sure Malik gets a 'gift' from me before I leave**...**_Altaïr thought.

He pushed open the door to their new bedroom, which was much bigger to accommodate two instead of one. The bed was much more lavishly decorated with big, fancy pillows at the head and plenty of heavy, warm blankets on the bed. This married life was going to drive the happily single persons insane.

"Not only do we have to share a room, but a bed, as well." Altaïr said nothing to express his discomfort, but she could feel his aura grow colder. They even had their own lavatory with a sink and a bathtub off to the right.

Raja stepped into the bathroom, ran some warm water and sought to wash the makeup off her face. It was making her skin itch. How could women stand wearing this every day?

She exited the bathroom and sat down on the comfy bed, kicking off her shoes as her eyes wandered around the room, then rested on Altaïr, who had his back turned to her. He was leaning over the desk, placing his weapons on the surface. She dug in her clothes chest for some sleeping clothes, finding a silky green, sleeveless nightgown. Where did this provocative clothing come from?

The oddly humorous couple must have thought this was hilarious.

**Another cliffie! Hahaha! I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! I enjoyed writing about the marriage ceremony-an original idea. If anyone wants to use this for other stories, let me know you're gonna use it first. I don't wanna have to hunt somebody down for stealing my work. Anyway, the next chapter will be up soon.**


	24. Ports and Captains

A/N: Hello, my readers! Next chapter!

**Note: I keep getting names mixed up in my stories, so please forgive me!**

Chapter Twenty-Four: Ports and Captains

'This is the only thing I have to sleep in, and this dress is way too form-fitting to even lie down in. Darn that Hifah...' Sighing helplessly, Raja grabbed the green garb and walked into the bathroom to change. A few minutes later, she emerged from the room pulling down on the hem of her gown, trying to hide as much of her legs as possible. Altaïr's back was still turned to her and she glared at him, hoping he wouldn't turn around and get any ideas. Fortunately, he continued to deny her existence.

She climbed into bed and kept her eyes on him as he disarmed himself.

He removed his wide leather belt and placed it on the dresser by the window, then untied his blood red sash and placed it there as well, along with his sword. He removed his shoulder strap, then his gauntlets. Little by little, he was looking less and less threatening. He removed his gloves, revealing unscathed, sizable hands. He now looked like a true scholar that wandered the cities in fours since all his weapons were gone.

He then removed his hood from his head, revealing handsome features that any woman wouldn't dare to say otherwise about. His profile resembled that of nobility. The outer robes slipped off easily as well as the white tunic underneath. Raja was, consequentially, enjoying this tease she was getting from her newly acquired spouse. Altaïr knew what he was doing.

He had his now unclad back turned to her as he sat on the bedside to unbuckle his boots. When he finished, he set them aside and slid his huge feet under the blankets along with the lower half of his body. Altaïr kept himself on his side of the bed, while Raja stuck to her side. The middle of the bed was very cold for the rest of the night.

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A few hours later, Raja woke up, breathing heavily and perspiring from her forehead and chest. She had a terrible dream—no nightmare:

She was at home in Banghezi with a little baby in her hands. Altaïr was there, standing next to her as she approached the door of someone's home. The woman inside opened it before she even knocked and tears came to her eyes at the sight of the baby. She handed the woman—who was obviously her aunt—the baby and she thanked Raja over and over again.

Then from behind, a loud clash of swords drew their attention. Altaïr was fighting a mob of Templars. He was quickly overwhelmed and badly injured, but they didn't kill him. They bound his wrists and ankles and carried him away. Then they came for Raja. She tried to run, but one of them caught her by her hair and threw her to the ground, making her watch the scene before her.

"'Give me my son!'" the head Templar ordered to her aunt, who was terrified. This man was the boy's father. The baby in her arms was screaming his lungs out. He raised his sword high above him and demanded again. Tears fell from her eyes and she shook her head no. His sword came down and swiped her head clean off her shoulders. The baby fell to the ground and Raja tried to retrieve him, but couldn't. The Templar scooped up the baby, bloodied hands covered in chain mail, and walked back to his horse.

The Templar holding onto her threw her onto her back and said in a heavy French accent, "You will never see your beloved assassin again. You belong to me now." He tore her skirts, despite her screaming and violent kicking. He then ripped her loins from her body and forced himself on top of her.

And that was where she woke up.

Tears fell from her eyes as she tried to calm her heart that refused to return to its normal rhythm. The sides of her head were pounding furiously.

She wiped the tears away silently, not wanting to awaken Altaïr, who seemed to be in a deep sleep, but was in fact wide awake ever since she jolted out of her slumber.

"A nightmare?" his husky voice asked in the darkness. She sighed.

"Yes. I've never had one as horrible as this."

"What did your nightmare contain?" Raja breathed in first, then began the nightmare.

By the end of the retelling of the dream, Raja's eyes were wet with tears again. He seemed a little disturbed by her dream, especially about him being defeated and taken away so easily. What would make her dream about something so catastrophic? If she was afraid, why did she agree to do it?

"You're afraid you won't find the child. Even though it is very unwise, you can choose not to do it." The only other persons she could trust were him and Malik. And there was a large possibility Altaïr wouldn't be sent halfway around the world to find some missing child for her.

Through the dim candlelight, she looked up at him. His honey-colored eyes seemed to glow as he looked down at her.

"I cannot send someone in my stead. My father asked me to complete this task. It would be wrong to have someone else do it for me because of a few last minute jitters. That didn't stop me from getting married to you," she reasoned. Altaïr understood her point of view, despite the fact that she had just insulted him. He never threw a task Al Mualim gave him on someone else because he was afraid, even though he never was.

"It's human to have self-doubt."

"Then you must not be human because you're always _so_sure of yourself, Altaïr." Raja had studied him well over their rocky relationship. She noticed his arrogance. His cockiness. His self-righteousness. She disliked him for it all, but she did envy how he could always be in control of the situations he was thrown in, how he could carry on without hesitation, and how he never second-guessed anything. There were other assassins that trained themselves to be this way, but it just seemed to fit Altaïr, no matter if he were practicing anything else.

"You cannot be afraid of anything to carry on in such a way."

"It's not easy for everyone to just cut their emotions loose. I'm just a _little_ afraid," she emphasized, creating a small space between her pointing finger and thumb. Raja turned her back to him and lay down, trying to force herself to sleep. But it would not overcome her body. So she decided to bother the only other person in the room.

"Altaïr, what if-"

"This marriage is only for safety reasons. You are not my real wife, so I would suggest you stop interrupting my sleep with mindless banter," he interrupted. She huffed, rolled her eyes, then blew out the candle.

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The next morning came as swift as the wind. When Raja awoke, Altaïr was already fully dressed and out of the room. He wasn't one for morning kisses.

The young woman wished she could throw the covers back over herself and sleep a little longer, but time was of the essence. Sighing, she sluggishly dragged herself into the lavatory.

After a few minutes, she emerged from the bathroom refreshed and alert, her eyes' vigor in them once again. This was the day she started a long journey that would take all her efforts to complete. And the beginnings of the development of a trait she always wished she had.

As she remade the bed to its original state, Altaïr came walking in fairly quickly like a white flash. Maybe he assumed she'd oversleep, but he had misjudged her character.

"I assumed you'd still be in the bed," he said, sounding quite amused. She straightened a crease in the comforter, then stood up straight, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

"Well, you thought wrong. You see, I'm as unpredictable as the weather. One day, I'm down and out, and the next, I'm a new person."

"The horses are ready and waiting at the gate. Do whatever it is you need to, but do it quickly. There's no time to waste."

"I should be the one telling you that, but I understand. I'll be ready in fifteen minutes. Now go; we're married, but you aren't privileged to see my body."

"It wouldn't be a privilege, but a repercussion, instead." His ice cold words plus his demeaning way of delivering that pun made it sting like a hot needle.

He was catching on to her games fairly quickly, and his insults went straight for the heart, like poison. That was how she liked to play, but he made it sound like he hated her, inside and out. Maybe Malik should have gone with her, but that was already another woman's husband. She would just have to deal with the assassin, or just simply say nothing to him unless it's necessary and save her the mental torture.

He left the room as quickly as he had come and she slipped out of the gown and into a long sleeved, black and purple dress with purple slippers to match. Raja exited the room that would only be her resting place for that previous night. Trotting down the stairs, various assassins stared at her strangely, as if pulling information from her form. They didn't know the situation, so they perceived her to be Altaïr's woman.

The long walk down the hill to the stables in the stuffy heat made Raja sweat bullets. Altair was strapping a saddle onto Amin. Malik and Hifah were waiting for her as well. Maybe to say good bye. After all, they'd be gone at least three months, separated by the Mediterranean.

"I'm going to miss you, Raja," Hifah said. She was holding Little Malik in her arms, watching him. He was so adorable and innocent, wide brown eyes gazing out at the world.

"I'm going to miss you, too Hifah, and Little Malik," she added, kissing the baby on his forehead. His miniature hands attempted to grab her face. She giggled at the soft touch of the infant's hands. If they moved quickly, Raja could experience that again with her nephew.

Malik apprpached her directly, extending his hand. Raja took it, saying, "Thank you Malik, for letting me go."

"It's nothing. I just hope this journey isn't all in vain. You two try not to kill each other," he joked. Raja cracked a smile before glancing over at the assassin settling in his saddle.

"Don't worry. I think we'll survive each other." Her favorite horse, Yasminah, was waiting for her, anxiously waiting to break off into their journey.

"Hello, Yasminah," she whispered to the red mare before jumping into the saddle. Raja didn't waste any time saying good-bye again. If it lingered a little longer, she'd find herself wishing she could stay. There was a heavy burden on her shoulders that needed to be lifted. No one else could do it for her.

Snapping the reigns, Yasminah started off at a steady trot, carrying her away from Masyaf, the fortress she called home, the safest place she could be. Amin trotted alongside his breeding partner, holding Altaïr in his saddle as they passed by the familiar road leading them right by the calm river that flowed down the mountain. The first assassin viewpoint was soon behind them as the cramped road, opened up into the brown, dusty Kingdom, dotted with small villages and Templar checkpoints. It seemed Yasminah knew the way to Acre already, so Raja decided she'd start formulating a plan to fill her time.

'Italy is such a large country, and all I know is that the boy lives somewhere in it, and that somewhere could be anywhere! It'll take years to find him, if he is in the country at that. Is there anything else my father wrote in this book that could help me?'

She turned the book back to the letter her father wrote, searching for key locations, any city names to help her search. The letter provided none of those things. Maybe she really was on her own to find this boy. To keep her mind off troubling things, she stared hard at the dirt, examining every pebble until it turned into broken gravel and eventually into solid gray stones paving the road. They were getting closer to Acre, farther into the Christian territory of the Holy Land that King Richard claimed. The sky had seemingly changed its hue completely, once a muggy warm brown color to ashen grayish blue. The ocean was only several dozen miles away now. Raja could smell the salty sea water wearing down the limestone mountains surrounding them.

Their path would eventually take them from the back of their horses to a rocky boat on the sea. It seemed every time Raja went to the war torn city, there were burnt, executed and hanging bodies waiting for her. It didn't seem to bother Altaïr as he walked by the lifeless bodies she pitied so much. Maybe it was because he saw dead bodies every day he traveled from city to city to fulfill his missions. Maybe it was because he caused the deaths of so many people.

While Raja searched among the sea-going merchants, Altaïr propped himself against a stone wall, watching over their beasts while he observed her gather information. He noted that there was something different about her now. She seemed more determined, self-confident, less afraid as she went from mariner to mariner.

She came to him after half an hour's time with a small grin on her face.

"I finally found a mariner sailing to Crete, then from there to port city Messina off the southern coast of Italy. From there, we can ride our horses," she explained.

"He's willing to carry animals on his vessel?" Altaïr asked. He was relieved he wouldn't have to get used to riding a foreign horse. Arabian stallions were the best breed and he'd never stray from them unless he had to.

"Yes. He sells exotic animals, so he'll be able to carry Amin and Yasminah below the deck."

"When is he leaving?"

"Around noon, so whatever you need to do before we leave, do so and meet back here so we can put our things on board, not that there's much for us to take...Just be here, okay?" she asked before leaving him to his business. He seemed amused by her sudden change of attitude. It was almost comical, this mere woman ordering a Master Assassin around like a child! Altaïr watched her sway away, blending in with all the other brown people.

He ran through his library of a mind and remembered Malik told him that there was something at the bureau that needed his attention. The small office was northeast of the docks and trying to swim through the mass of crowds would take too much of his time, not that he had anything important to do. He climbed up the ladder resting on the building and started running, leaping from rooftop to rooftop. It had been one too many days since he was able to feel that rush of adrenaline again. The seasoned muscles in his legs gladly coiled and released when he vaulted himself through the air. His destination was quickly approaching.

The all too familiar sky grate entangled in vines was before him and Altaïr soon found himself in an even more mundane setting as he climbed down and entered the adjacent room. The rafiq was bent over yet another book he'd probably read a thousand times over.

"Ah, Altaïr. Malik informed me of your arrival. How goes your journey?" he asked.

"All is well. I was told there was something here to aid us in her search."

"Yes, there is," he said, rummaging through the shelves beneath his desk, then pulling out a weathered piece of leather. Altaïr furrowed his brows, wondering what this sliver of cow hide could do to help.

"This map was created two hundred years ago for sea-faring assassins. It has, in detail, the roads, cities and places of interest recorded on it. Ever since its creation, the rafiq of Italy's various bureaus updates it, then sends it to us by whatever means—bird, messenger boy, so forth and so on."

"I was never made aware of Assassins in Italy" he asked, taking the delicate map and placing it in his pouch.

"Of course. We are everywhere, young one. The Kingdom does not set the boundaries of the Templars and the Kingdom doesn't hold the Brotherhood back, either. You still have much to learn about the organization, Altaïr."

"My Master withheld more information than I thought," he inquired. His mind wandered to the possibility of there being an Italian assassin with skills that matched his own. Perhaps they could spar a little to find out who was the better of the two.

"Perhaps. But do not waste your time here. Raja has informed me that your boat departs at noon. She asked that I try not to hold you up." Had she really gotten that much of a head start?

"Very well. Safety and peace, rafiq."

"And on you, as well, Altaïr. May Raja's search for the child go well." Altaïr said nothing more and returned to the rooftops. He bounded across the very same rooftops he used to get to the bureau and returned to the exact location where Raja left him. She was waiting by the docks tapping her foot and searching the crowd with her green-brown eyes. She couldn't have been waiting for him already; the sun was not at its highest point in the sky yet.

Finally, her head swiveled in his direction as he came in full view. When the crowd cleared, he could see she was no longer wearing the traditional Muslim clothing, which consisted of a dress and slippers. She currently was wearing a loose white tunic and black, form-fitting pants. The look actually seemed to fit her better.

"There you are, Altaïr," she breathed.

"It is not yet noon."

"I know. The captain wanted to meet you before we got on board. You are supposed to be my husband, remember?" she reminded as she led him down the dock. He received many mysterious glares from the Teutonic knights passing through, perhaps returning from a minor crusade across the sea. They may have even lost a few of their own to the Assassins in battle.

They came to a halt when she approached a statuesque man, who looked quite odd. His skin was deathly pale with brown flecks thrown across his face, his eyes were a deep green, but friendly and welcoming, and the hair under his hat was fiery red. This was the most unusual European Altaïr had ever seen. He was used to tan skin, blue eyes and dark hair. The captain's eccentric appearance didn't seem to bother Raja at all as she gave him a warm smile.

"I see you've found your husband. And here I thought such a beautiful young woman was traveling alone all the way to Italy. I am Flann Kaelan Aston. Your wife has already told me her name. May I have yours, young man?" he asked.

"Altaïr Ibn La'Ahad."

"Altaïr...Interesting name. Now!" he exclaimed, clasping his hands together, then said, "Shall we get this little _bateau_ onto the sea?" Raja gave him a warm smile before following him to the docks branching off to various ports. Altaïr examined the boats as they passed by—it didn't look promising from his standpoint. Every barge he passed by was either eaten by the heavy sea air, falling apart from neglect, or too unstable from eye's view.

_Hopefully this woman inspected the ship we are to travel on. It would be upsetting if we are to be carried in one with limited space _he thought. His image of their vessel engraved in his mind was ornery to what would actually carry them to Italy. It reminded Altair of Sibrand's private vessel, but much more elegant in the wooden designs.

It could safely carry at least eighty passengers and a few large animals like that of cows and horses. The deck was made of the finest wood, the mahogany surface polished so well it shimmered. The sails were still tied up, but by the way they never bent to the wind's will let him know they would sail fairly quickly without any problems. Hopefully the monsoon was in the right season to carry the boat safely.

The assassin searched the deck for Raja, who was darting from end to end excitedly. She would disappear below deck then return to look over the side at the deep blue water. Her behavior mirrored that of an energetic child. Captain Flann and his crew merely sat back, chortling as they observed the spry girl bounce all over.

The tall, pale man approached Altaïr directly with a wide smile.

"She's never been on a boat before, has she?" he asked. Altaïr's light brown eyes followed her for a moment as he recalled she left for Crete on a boat and returned to Acre on a boat.

"She has. Just not one as lavish as this," he replied. His main concern was his horse at the moment.

"Well, I hope you two enjoy your journey. My crew and I will do all we can to ensure you do." Altaïr bowed lightly. He glanced around the boat—Raja must have disappeared below deck again.

"Where are the horses stabled?" he asked.

"Below deck in the back room. Your sleeping quarters are downstairs as well. I'm sure you'd want to get some rest." As if she'd been beckoned, Raja appeared again.

"I'm sure you want to see your beloved Amin. Follow me," she ordered, leading him down the stairs.

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Sorry for the abrupt cut-off! The next chapter's beginning doesn't flow with the end of this one, so the next chappie will be up in less than a week. I can't make any promises, though... Thanks! ;)


	25. Illusions

A/N: The last chapter ended kinda abruptly and I apologize for that! This chapter will be charged with all kinds of emotions, which ones, I'm not going to say! Enjoy!

Chapter Twenty-Five: Illusions

The walk through the lower deck was more like a freak show to the assassin. There were bizarre animals in cages that he'd never seen before. Raja noticed he was paying more than the usual attention to the creatures.

"I'm assuming you've never seen these animals before in your life. They're from all over Africa and the Middle East," she explained before opening the door to yet another section of the lower deck. In here were the animals Altaïr was more accustomed to, such as camels, horses and pigeons. Amin was tied up next to Yasminah towards the back. The assassin wasted no time greeting his trusted steed. The horse gladly nuzzled his master and Raja smiled at the rare scene of affection Altaïr seldom showed towards anything. Was he _smiling_? If so, it only lasted a second as the moment came to an end.

Raja focused on the dromedary camel before her and he gnawed at the hair on her head playfully.

"Hey!" she exclaimed through a laugh as she patted his matted coat.

"Animals seemed to be inclined towards you," Altaïr commented.

"I guess you can say that," she said, feeding the camel a few sugar cubes. Raja backed away from the beast to return to the top floor, but her back bumped against something hard. Turning around, she realized Altaïr had moved from his spot near the horses. A light blush crept across her face and her throat turned into a desert. He was so close she could see his features clearly for the first time. Altair was _much_ more handsome than that brute, Tauraj.

He had serious honey brown eyes, a straight, pointed nose, and bow shaped lips on a chiseled face with a strong jawline. The room seemed to grow a lot smaller as the space between them lessened little by little. His face never changed from its nonchalant glare as he loomed over her head. The remaining sugar cubes in her hand seemed so heavy for some reason, so she dropped them to the floor. Raja's breaths came quicker as she nervously bit her bottom lip. Her eyes never left his, for fear if she did, Altaïr would have ended her life on that boat.

A minute smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, which her eyes kept their focus on since the beginning of this encounter. Maybe that was what he was smiling about. Raja nearly gave in to his mesmerizing presence when she finally found the willpower to brush past him and hurry down the corridor without uttering a word.

The fresh mineral-rich air hit her face as soon as she climbed the stairs. The feverish bubble that surrounded her being was cooling down fairly quickly as she sat down. Crossing her legs, Raja bit on the neckline of her clothing and rubbed the sides of her face.

"Lady Rajanah, is everything alright?" Captain Flann asked her. He seemed even paler in the graying afternoon as the boat headed for open waters. The tall Christian church was slowly fading into the thickening fog encroaching upon the land.

"Yes, Captain Flann. I'm just a little..." A terrible taste plagued her mouth in an instant, and Raja was spilling the contents of her breakfast overboard. The red headed mariner patted her back.

"I understand," he said, handing her a cloth, then added, "Either you are seasick or you and your husband are expecting." At that thought, she retched again, and nothing came up but liquid. Raja plopped down on the chair and wiped her mouth.

"I've never been seasick before," she moaned. "And I'm certainly not pregnant."

"Sometimes I throw up when I travel and sometimes I don't. Perhaps, Miss Rajanah, there is a first time for everyone," he said with a smile before returning to the helm. Altaïr returned to the deck, discovering that Raja's face was quite pale.

"Seasick?" was all he said.

"I guess. I think I'll go eat something with salt on it to calm my stomach," she groaned, clenching her belly as she made her way to the door for the kitchen. The assassin decided he was desiring to fill his growling stomach.

The kitchen was full of barrels piled high with bananas, apples, and oranges, while pheasants and chickens hung from the ceiling on a rope. The cook was yet another unusual-looking foreigner slicing potatoes with a small knife. The way his dark eyes slanted and his hair always seemed to fall in place made Altaïr assume he was from the Orient, Song China more and likely.

"Do you have anything with salt in or on it, Mr. Guifei?" Raja asked. He never looked up from the vegetable he was poaching.

"Yeah. There's some peppermint leaves in that barrel over there if you want to get rid of seasickness. If you're pregnant, there's some sweetened yams on deck." He pointed to a red barrel labeled 'peppermint' with his knife.

"Thanks. And I'm not pregnant." She peeled off the top, plucked a few leaves and put them in her mouth. The sharp, fresh taste hit her taste buds unexpectedly, and she coughed.

"Wow. That plant is strong," she commented.

"It works, though. Is this your husband?" the cook asked. Raja flicked her eyes in the assassin's direction before replying.

"Yes. His name is Altaïr. He doesn't talk much." Mr. Guifei watched as Altaïr took an apple and wiped it off on his white robes.

"I've seen those white garbs before in my homeland. Everywhere they went, they caused trouble and unrest. And death seemed to be all around them. You are an Assassin, no?" At hearing those words, Raja's blood turned to ice. He had found out who Altaïr was, and now he was going to tell Captain Flann. And they were already so far in their progress.

"You judge correctly. Feel free to report this back to your captain, if you wish," Altaïr stated, glaring at the man as he bit the green apple.

"Your deathly glares do not scare me, assassin. I did not plan on telling him, anyway. One of my cousins happens to be a part of your Brotherhood." Altaïr huffed lightly.

"Interesting. I was unaware of a division in the Orient."

"Well, now you know, dear husband. Masyaf is not the only sanctuary for assassins in the world." Loud, heavy footsteps coming down the stairs interrupted the trio's conversation. It was Captain Flann.

"The crew was beginning to wonder where you went, Lady Rajanah. They would love to hear your beautiful singing voice."

"I thought I only told you, Captain," she said, her eyebrows furrowed in mock disappointment.

"Well, I couldn't help it. My men love women, especially ones who can sing. So please enlighten us after tonight's evening meal," he requested, his green eyes begging her to say yes. The woman thought for a moment, while Altaïr stared at her, awaiting her decision. He had the privilege only once before to hear her voice. It was impressive—the way it seemed to flow from her mouth like a river.

"Hmm...Alright," she agreed with a smile, which the delighted captain returned.

"Wonderful. Where I come from, singing is also an invitation to dance. May I have the pleasure, with your husband's permission, of course?" he asked, turning his gaze to Altaïr.

"I would be delighted," she answered for him, silently wishing the assassin a painful death. The captain's forest-colored eyes returned to her face, amused at her strong response. Usually men answered for their wives. If a woman was to speak out of turn, she was to be rebuked for it.

'He could at least try to play the part a little bit. Does he _want_ us to get thrown overboard?'__

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Surprisingly later on that night, the weather had changed drastically. The gray clouds hanging low overhead were long gone, replaced by white, fluffy clouds and a purplish orange sunset. A perfect setting for listening to the chanting of a woman. Altaïr had been on deck the whole day, silently cleaning his weapons as he watched every single person on deck handle their duties. A few of the mates eyed him suspiciously, murmuring about how he might kill all of the crew in their sleep, then take the boat for himself. Raja told him not to clean his weapons in full view of everyone on board, and he reasoned that they should know that if they tried anything on him or her, they'd be in a lot of trouble. Captain Flann concluded it was better to be safe than sorry and actually asked the assassin if he could show him how to clean his own weapons!

While her 'lovely' companion sat with the other men on deck, waiting for her, Raja was in their room changing clothes so that she looked like a songstress. She was wearing a blue and white striped robe with a black sash and slippers when she stepped out of their chamber. The next week or so that they'd be on the water would be most unpleasant. This bed was about two thirds of the one in Masyaf they had to share. Now they would _have_ to sleep right next to one another.

The woman felt a little intimidated by the rough-looking crowd that was waiting her on the top floor. The only welcoming face was that of Flann, who was quite excited by her appearance. He rushed over to her.

"You look wonderful, Rajanah. You aren't nervous, are you?" he asked. Lying to him and herself, she shook her head.

"Not at all." He kissed her hand, then went back to his chair. Now all eyes were on her, including the intense stare of Altaïr. Imagining that there was no one else on deck, Raja closed her eyes and began singing:

_Free the dream within  
The stars are crying a tear  
A sigh escapes from heaven  
And the world's end  
Breathe the dream within  
The mystifying  
We tremble and spin  
Suspended within_

_Look beyond where hearts can see  
Dream in peace  
Trust, love, believe_

_We tremble and spin  
Suspended within_

_Free the dream within  
The voices calling, a song  
A prayer from deep inside you  
To guide you_

_Be the dream within  
The light is shining  
A flame on the wind  
Salvation begins_

_Look beyond where hearts can see  
Dream in peace  
Trust, love, believe_

_We tremble and spin  
Suspended within_

_Free the dream within  
The stars are crying a tear  
A sigh escapes from heaven  
And the world's end._

The mesmerizing serenade was over and she opened her eyes. First the Captain clapped, then the others chimed in, applauding her as well. Altair was like a statue. A tear stung her eye and threatened to fall down her cheek, but the appreciation of the Captain was all she needed.

"That was wonderful! Your voice sounded like that of a mermaid's. Perhaps there are nymphs living among us in the flesh," he complimented. Raja's cheeks turned red as she grew speechless.

"I-I don't even sing that well," she said humbly.

"Nonsense! Now I would like to put your dancing skills to the test." He extended his large, pale hand to her. She took it and before she could blink, Raja was being spun around to the tunes of an odd-looking instrument she soon discovered to be named a hurdy-gurdy. All the other crew members were having the time of their lives as well as they joined in the festivities. Altaïr sat with his arms folded across his chest, the shadow of his hood obscuring his features.

"You are quite an experienced dancer, Miss Rajanah! I've never met a woman as cultured as you!" the captain shouted over the laughs and conversation. Her heart was pounding furiously in her chest and she could find herself barely being able to speak after all the laughing she was doing.

"Thank you! In Banghezi, we love to dance!" A few more minutes of twirling and partner-changing exhausted the party goers, who found themselves just about ready to pass out. Raja and Flann sat side by side, trying to catch their breath.

"It has been a pleasure dancing with you, milady," he said.

"I enjoyed it as well, Captain. Now that I've had my share of entertainment, I think I'll retire for the night." He nodded, a gesture wishing her good night and she returned it before heading downstairs. Now the captain could question her husband without her worrying. There were a few things bothering him about this strange man.

"I assume you aren't one for singing, or dancing, at that," he inquired before sitting next to the assassin. Altaïr didn't even spare him a glance.

"I don't particularly fancy them," he replied.

"You allow your wife much freedom, more than any other Muslim man I've met, assuming that you are a Muslim." His father being a Muslim, Altaïr would have said yes if he didn't take up with the Creed so long ago.

"I am not a Muslim. I am godless, but Raja is Christian," he said.

"You are not like any other man I've met, Altaïr."

"Because I'm _not_ like any other man. I will take my leave for the night," he stated in his harsh, even tone before standing up and descending the stairs. Altaïr was not one for small talk, especially when he was being hammered with interrogating questions such as those of the captain. He opened the door to their room and paused momentarily. Raja was buttoning up the front of her thin sleeping shirt when they locked eyes. Thankfully, she was on the third to last clasp, so there was nothing for him to see.

"You could have knocked," she grumbled, sounding quite annoyed.

"You are my wife," he said, closing the door, then placing his weapons on the desk one by one.

"Don't use that as an excuse," she snapped back as she peeled back the blankets. Altaïr sensed the tension in her voice.

"I sense you are upset about something," he inquired, finally glancing at her. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her mouth was turned down in a frown, like she was going to go mad any minute. Altaïr placed the last of his weapons on the table.

"As always, you are correct. Do you know why?" she asked through gritted teeth, barely able to control her rage. He said nothing, so she answered her own question.

"You are supposed to be my husband. What kind of husband doesn't introduce himself? What kind of husband doesn't like hearing his wife's singing voice? What kind of husband doesn't like to dance with his wife, but instead would gladly clean his beloved weapons? Altaïr, it seems like you aren't even trying to make this believable," her voice quivered with every word. Her hazel eyes burned holes in the expressionless shadow of his hood. Raja stood, fists clenched, waiting for an answer. The assassin remained silent, not showing any signs of any emotions at all.

"I guess I'm talking to myself now. Fine. Good night," she said bitterly, climbing into bed and throwing the blankets over her body. Her back was to him as he began undressing, but that didn't stop her from hearing the rustle of clothing hitting the floor. Images instantly festered in her mind and she tried to push them away.

'I'm supposed to be mad at him.' The bed groaned under the heavy weight of his body as he settled under the covers as well. With one huff, he blew out the candle. Since the bed was not that wide, they'd be sleeping back to back with very little comfort space. Everything Altaïr did, Raja could feel it and everything she did, he could feel it as well. Sighing, Raja knew this was not going to work.

"Altaïr, this sleeping arrangement is not going to work," she said through the darkness. Her teeth began to chatter and her skin was producing goose bumps by the minute. The one blanket they were given would not suffice.

"What makes you think so?" he asked. It sounded like his voice had been amplified as it echoed and bounced off the walls.

"I can't move and you can't move at all. Plus, this room is very cold."

"What do you propose, then?" Raja hated the next few words she uttered, "We have to huddle." He cleared his throat loudly. Even though she couldn't see him, she turned over to be face to face.

"I know, I don't want to do it as much as you don't. But it's cold and we'll both freeze if we don't share body warmth. Be reasonable, Altaïr." He said nothing and before she could exhale, his arm was bringing her right into his chest. His _bare _chest at that. His body was so warm...

"Not like that!" she hissed, pulling away from him.

"Then what do you mean?" he growled.

"I'll do it," she mumbled, scooting closer to his body until she could feel the heat emanating from his surface. Raja suddenly felt very tingly and restless, a pit forming in her stomach. She could feel the cool air flowing from his nostrils on her forehead. Were they _really _that close to each other?

"Give me your hand," she instructed, groping for it in the darkness. Their hands finally met, his large palm brushing against hers as their fingers intertwined for a moment, then she placed his hand on her upper hip. It felt more like a heavy weight than an extension of the forearm as it sat there. Raja felt sweat drip from her brow as his hand moved slightly higher, towards the sharp dip of her waist.

"Better?" she asked quickly.

"Slightly," he replied, his voice sending chills up her physique, plus his weighty touch made Raja's mind wander to darker thoughts for a moment before she spoke again.

"Good."

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Ooh! Altaïr and Raja are slowly getting closer...They're starting to like one another without even knowing it. Will it grow into unshakable, immortal, complete, unconditional, reinforced love?


	26. Docking in Crete

A/N: Hello, all! Enjoy Ch. 26! Sorry it took so long! Homework has got me tied down most days.

Chapter Twenty-Six: Docking in Crete

_The days following their 'argument' went by with no words spoken between them. The only time they were together on the boat was at nightfall, when it was time to rest. Raja still did not think Altaïr's behavior was acceptable, but he didn't care. Captain Flann, on the other hand, tried his best to resolve the issue that was clear as day. He tried speaking to Raja, but she was too stubborn to listen to his suggestions. The Captain approached Altaïr about it, and all the assassin did was give him a basilisk stare and the pale man grew even more ashen in the face. He decided things would work out on their own and in their own due time. The eight-day sea voyage passed by swiftly and soon the passengers of the Adham found themselves coming upon an island all too familiar to the heroine of our story..._

On an internal alarm clock, Altaïr stirred out of his sleep just a few minutes before dawn. There was barely any light, but there was enough for him to see the woman he was espoused to lying right next to him. Raja was still in a deep sleep, her breaths drawn out and lightly tickling his bare chest. The blanket had shifted down as result of involuntary moving in the night, exposing her bare arms to the cool air of the room. Goose bumps cropped up on her skin and her body was slightly trembling under his hand. The assassin took note of this and covered her torso with the blanket carefully so as to not awaken her. In due time, she halted her shaking and resumed her slumber. He watched as she continued to rest, his eyes fixed on her face.

He could not believe how much she resembled Adha feature-wise. That is, if his visual memory of her was still clear and not distorted by mental images of other women he'd seen over the years. What he did remember, however, was that Adha was a kind soul, docile in appearance and demeanor. She never hesitated to listen, and was never quick to disobey. There were even a few times they had enjoyable conversations, though short-lived. The day she left on that boat was memorable. He had not loved her, nor could he say he liked her in that sort of way. Yes, she was a physically and mentally ideal woman, but he never saw her in that way. Merely another person he was to protect under orders of his late Master. He never mixed his emotions in with his work. An assassin was all he was, not a lover or a lifelong companion.

Raja, on the other hand, was ornery to Adha personality-wise. It was on seldom occasions when she held her tongue, like a normal submissive woman was supposed to be. Whatever she thought, she spoke it. Whatever gesture of authority he gave, she questioned it. They often argued—and one hundred percent of the time it was pointless—and insults escaped her mouth often. Altaïr could only imagine what kind of man would put up with such an aberrant woman as her.

As if she could sense the negative thoughts being made in Altaïr's head, Raja opened her eyes slowly and seductively looked up into the eyes of her wide awake companion. He continued to stare into her eyes, diving straight into the depths of her soul effortlessly. There was no fear in them, no, this emotion was quite different from what he expected. What he saw was _remorse. _Her eyes were less vibrant, less hostile. What had gone on between the beginning of their trip and this point in time? After what seemed to be forever, Raja finally looked away and sat up, combing through her voluminous hair with her hands. She exhaled sharply, then got out of bed, standing to her full height and stretching out her spine, every vertebrae snapping back into place with a faint popping noise. Apparently, she'd forgotten her nightgown was noticeably short, stopping at the medial thigh, and Altaïr—being a functioning, healthy male—took note instantly and distracted himself with rousing from the bed himself and getting dressed.

No words were exchanged between them as the couple got dressed. They put on their clothes for the day with their backs turned to each other, refusing to look upon one another for even a moment's time. Raja was the first to leave, swinging open the door widely and sauntering down the hall to the upper deck. Altaïr followed after replacing his hidden blade on his forearm, treading fluidly and ascending the stairs. The dawn was grey and raw, a heavy overcast blanketing the entire sky. The ship's crew was already sitting down to eat, their bowls full of what looked like thick soup. His eyes drifted over the deck and fell upon his wife, who was already sitting down—next to the Captain, at that—to eat breakfast. Altaïr decided he'd pass on the meal and head down to the kitchen for another apple.

Guifei was in his same spot as he was every day, peeling carrots this time. His marble black eyes never looked up, but he knew whenever Altaïr was there.

"In my country, they call the men in white ghosts. Do you know why?" he asked, grabbing another orange vegetable. Altaïr seemed to be interested in whatever the cook had to say about his brothers. After snagging a shiny green fruit, he replied, "No."

"They say the assassins can float through walls because it seems nothing can stop them from achieving their goal. When they run, when they attack and when they pursue, it's as if they float on air, like a phantasm of some sort. Almost like an immortal spirit sent to kill the corrupt and unjust. I have never seen a deceased assassin, nor bloodied clothing upon their beings. I'm starting to wonder if the legends are true," he expressed, tossing the stem of the carrot into an empty barrel. The assassin continued to eat his breakfast, staring hard at the man. The tale was interesting, yet it seemed way too heartfelt in delivery. It was as if he were trying to tell the young assassin something.

Without hesitation, Altaïr removed a dagger from its place and flung it at the older man with deadly speed and accuracy. But in a split second, Guifei had moved from his seat on the counter to being face to face with Altaïr, who was surprised to find that he was not on the floor in a puddle of blood, but instead, holding cold, sharp metal to his throat. Their eyes met with similar intensity and amusement in them, studying each other closely.

"You are very discerning, young one," Guifei said. His eyes seemed to smile with approval. Altaïr, who was frustrated to have been outmatched, replied coldly, "Always suspect, never assume. Your words were too cordial for them to be a mere legend." The cook let him go and Altaïr retrieved his knife out of the wooden beam.

"Most younger ones take my words as some sort of ego boost. But you, you are the only one who looked below the surface, Altaïr. Perhaps you are one of the best assassins in the world," he said matter-of-factly, sitting back down on the counter top. He retorted quickly, "I am the best at what I do." The pale man chuckled an ancient one.

"If you say so. Arrogance never did anyone any good. Confucius once said 'Arrogance brings on destruction'."

"I have never read the words of this scholar, yet it seems to make sense. But there is nothing wrong with being completely confident in one's self."

"Well spoken, Altaïr. I enjoy exchanging words with you. If you weren't so tight-lipped, you'd learn much more from our discussions, no matter how seldom they are." The younger assassin said nothing, and Guifei filled the void.

"The young woman on the deck with the captain—she isn't your wife, is she?" he asked, his half-moon eyes sliding in Altaïr's direction. He tossed the core of the apple into the barrel before answering.

"By the Creed, yes."

"...But there is no love between you two?"

"No," he stated firmly.

"What was the reason for making such a vow?" he asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

"Traveling reasons." The elder man chuckled again, peeling the skin off a potato.

"I see. I remember my wife. Her name was Zhang. Such a beautiful enchantress. From what I've observed, you two seemingly do not get along well. In fact, I believe you bump heads often."

"_She_ bumps my head all the time. Arguments achieve nothing and they are a waste of my time."

"Women will always find something to argue about, just to see their husband react. Zhang was the same way, always bickering about one little thing after another. It seemed everything I did resulted in her disapproval. But when I told her I could not put up with her always trumping my authority, she did not say a single word to me for a week. I don't know what conclusions she made in her head, but the knit-picking stopped and our love grew until she passed. I figured she _wanted_ me to react in such a way, as if to let her know I was the one in charge and she wouldn't have to worry about being the head of the family. Sometimes women do certain things to test us men, see what we're made of," he counseled. Altaïr remained silent, meditating on Guifei's words until the ship's horn blew loud for all to hear. He winced a little at the thunderous noise, then turned to the other man in the room, his eyes asking for an explanation.

"It appears we are finally docking in Crete."

The captain had been watching Raja eat lunch quietly for the past few minutes when he decided he'd approach her about the subject that had been bothering him all week. His green eyes focused on her brown face as she met his gaze.

"Rajanah, why is it that you and your husband are so...distant?" he asked. The woman put her spoon down in the empty bowl, then thought of a logical response to his question.

"He's always been that way. Ever since we first met, he never spoke much, and he always kept to himself. My father arranged the marriage, as you know, because he saw how much our families could benefit from one another. Before we were married, we never spoke, and he only came to visit once or twice in the three months before our wedding. It didn't matter to me, because I knew he wanted nothing to do with me. I preferred to stay living with my father, but he insisted I stay with Altaïr since he could protect me so well. And this is the way we've been ever since. Occasionally speaking and nothing more," she explained. His green eyes grew distant, somewhat pitying her. His instincts told him to reach out and hold her hand. He expected her to violently rip her hand away, but instead Raja merely looked up into his eyes.

"I find it sad that there are women as beautiful as you that are forced into such an arrangement. It seems to be a sad life. I only hope that you and Altaïr will eventually come to love one another someday before it's too late."

The second in command descended the stairs leading to the helm and approached the captain, saying, "Captain Flann, we are approaching the northwestern dock of Crete." As if their conversation never happened, Flann's pale face returned to his youthful, vigorous outlook and commanded, "Well, ring the bell, Kaelan." The young fiery-haired boy nodded once before saying, "Yes Father." Raja seemed taken aback, watching the boy return to the port of the boat.

He saw the incredulity on her face, even though she was trying her best to hide it.

"That's your son?" she asked.

"Yes, it is. He'll be twelve this winter." A whole crop of questions grew in her head. What happened to the boy's mother? Why is he on the ship? How did Captain Flann have a son? She was itching to know the answers, but Raja decided to hold her tongue and keep to herself for once. They had become friends over the past week, but he was still a complete stranger.

"I heard from Altaïr that this is only the second time you've been on a boat," he added, skipping to a new conversation. In an instant, she was no longer worried about the boy, but about the conversation at hand, even though it still burned faintly in the back of her head.

"Yes, it is. Well, my third time. I traveled to Crete a long while ago and returned to the Holy Land."

"What for?" he asked.

"To visit family. I had discovered that my mother had passed recently," she said quietly. The thought of her mother resurfaced, and the warm sensation returned to her eyes. She tried her best to be strong, continuously blinking her eyes to fight off the tears. The Captain could see the loss of her mother was like a fresh wound being reopened. The horn blew noisily above their heads for a few seconds, then echoed and eventually faded away.

"I'm sorry," was all he could say before he rested his hand on her shoulder, a sympathetic gesture. The captain left her, taking his place beside his son at the helm. Raja turned her mind to other things quickly, but what else could she think about? Her other family members? They had been brutally murdered before her eyes, all of her younger brothers and sisters. She was the only one who managed to escape the Templars. A huge responsibility had been placed upon her, if she chose to take up the challenge. Since she was the only child of Talil Ai'in left, she would have to bear children to continue some sort of lineage with her father's blood, no matter how little his genes would flow into her children's veins. She was already 26 years old. Most women her age had at least 3 children to take care of with one on the way.

While she sat and pondered over these things, she failed to notice Altaïr had returned to the deck after hearing the horn bellow. He scanned the faces of the crew until he found her with his eyes. Raja seemed distant and unfocused, her eyes lifeless and still as she looked down. A strange lump formed in his stomach as he studied her features, as if he could sense something was wrong. Strangely enough, she looked up just in time to see his honey-colored eyes glaring at her from far away. His expression chilled her to the bone, though she had looked upon that scowl many times before. Even though a great distance separated them, she could feel his eyes on her form, even when she looked away. That sensation of being watched never went away until the boat anchored next to a wooden dock and the ramp was being lowered to it.

"Alright, everyone, listen to me!" the Captain demanded, his once docile tone now harsh and authoritative. Kaelan stood by his side quietly. Once he had everyone's attention, he continued, "We will be staying in Crete for tonight, just to bathe, rest, and restock our supply of food. We will be leaving tomorrow at noon. If you aren't here by that time, we will leave without you. Understand? Good." Once he finished his instructions, everyone eagerly took off down the ramp and dispersed into the city. Raja was hesitant to leave the boat, her feet not wanting to move from their place. Should she visit Nyota, and ask her more about her mother? A sharp pang erupted in her chest. But the only way for her to get over her mother's death and move on was to confront it directly.

Altaïr noticed she wasn't moving, but didn't seem concerned as he quietly stood next to her, like an attentive dog by his master's side. It wasn't until a few moments time went by when Raja noticed he was standing next to her. She kept her head down as she said, "I don't recall telling you, but my mother died here. Her friend lives in Dion. She should be willing to let us stay in her home for the night." He said nothing, waiting for her to lead the way.

"I am not familiar with the surroundings of this island, so you will have to take us there," Altaïr said in his even tone. It didn't seem he was angry with her at all about her mouth, nor the opposite. What did it take to make him angry? She nodded lightly, and took careful steps down the ramp. Her confidence had been sapped away by the thought of having to recall Nyota's last words about her mother again.

_"She died of smallpox. I'm sorry, child."_ For days after, Raja felt like nothing but an empty shell, her body taking on a mind of its own. She found it hard to eat, difficult to sleep, but easy to cry.

The port city was just as she remembered it nearly six weeks before then—sleepy, quiet, and peaceful. Even though it was the prime part of the day, the people moved around slowly as if they had all the time in the world. Raja enjoyed the tranquility of the place for a long time, being able to relax most days and read at the beach. No one ever bothered her, and the few friends she had were very kind and genuine in personality. She wondered if they still lived there or had moved away to another land far from there.

Maneuvering through the town was easy, for very few crowds littered the streets and it was as if everyone knew to make one path heading north and one path heading south. Through her peripherals, Raja looked behind her to see if Altaïr was still following her trail. The tall man in white was close behind, but not close enough for her to expect any odd behavior. His eyes were studying the streets and the people, etching them into his memory for future references. He would know more about this city than she did in a matter of hours and little exploration of its backstreets.

After two hours of walking in a nearly straight line, they passed by the various districts broken down by color: scarlet, blue, green, then lavender at last, its square abodes spiraling up the hill. A lump formed in her stomach, but Raja stomped it down with her determination and started up the hill. Nothing had changed since the last time she was there, but she liked the comfortable atmosphere. As they climbed higher, the voices and commotion of the crowds died down drastically until it was nothing but a whisper. Nyota's door was a few steps away, getting larger and larger as she approached it. She raised her hand to knock, but the dark purple door opened before she made contact, revealing the same tallish, dark woman she met some time ago. Her dark, ancient eyes twinkled with recognition at the sight of the younger woman, but when they focused on Altaïr, they turned suddenly solid and cold, calculating his threat level. He merely stared right back, unfazed by her glare. (The following conversation takes place over a few hours, not a few minutes)

"He's a friend, Nyota," Raja said softly. The African woman's eyes lost their intensity immediately and she ushered the two inside. Her home was exactly the same—comfortable, modest, and airy. The windows were covered in colorful kente cloth from her homeland and her furniture was bright and lively just as Raja recalled it to be. Her mother must have had a wonderful time living with such a vibrant woman like herself.

"Please sit," she said, resting in her green armchair. Raja sat, but Altaïr remained standing. Nyota looked him up and down quickly with her dagger-like eyes."Or you can stand."

Inside, Raja rolled her eyes.

"What brings you to Crete again, child?" the older woman asked, picking up a ball of yarn and a pair of wooden needles.

"My father asked me to bring a child from Italy to Banghezi, where his mother stays. The captain of the ship we are traveling on is allowing us to stay on the island for the night. We need somewhere to rest for tonight." The dark woman's eyebrows raised in interest.

"Italy? That sure is quite a distance away from North Africa. I hope your journey goes well. And you may stay here. The bath is always available for use if you need it," she told them. Raja bowed slightly, then looked to her husband, who was still nonchalant as ever. He was so emotionless it drove Raja insane.

"May I ask, why are you traveling with someone of the opposite sex whom you are not married to?" The way she spoke her words reminded Raja of her mother, how she could make her statements sound innocent in tone, but in actuality asking a different question. Raja thought of the simple truth and replied, "We are married, actually." The older woman's eyes seemed to light up like a fire.

"I'm sure your mother would be so overwhelmed with joy. Congratulations," she said with a warm smile. Raja merely smiled in gratitude.

"Thank you, Nyota." The air grew calm without words and Raja tried her best to bring up the topic of her mother without bursting into tears. Her throat felt swollen and she suddenly found it hard to speak.

"Before I left for Acre, we spoke very little on my mother. I'd...I'd like to know more about her before she died," Raja said quietly, twirling her fingers nervously. Altaïr took an inkling of an interest in what was to be said. She knew the next few minutes would be very hard for her. She finally found the strength to look up, her eyes meeting with Nyota's. Her marble-like eyes glowed with life as always, but they seemed to frown as she nodded her head in understanding.

"I see. Then I shall give you what you seek." She continued knitting as she brought all her memories to surface.

"I first met your mother about two years ago. It was late, almost morning, when she came knocking on my door. I grabbed a weapon, thinking it was a group of boys trying to play a trick on me. When I did open it, I found her resting against my door, clothes in tatters, messy hair, and so thin when I picked her up off the ground, there was nothing but cloth and bones in my hands. She slept two days straight and ate as if she had a hole in her stomach. When enough of her strength returned, I asked her for her name and where she came from in such a state. She told me her name was Atiya and she was from Banghezi. She told me that Templar Knights took her away from her children and sold her to a slave holder in Alexandria where she worked all day with little or no food and not enough sleep. One night when the guards were sleeping, she managed to escape to Crete on a boat and dragged herself all the way here," she retold. Raja's eyes were wide and wet with tears as she grasped the skirts of her dress, but she whispered, "Please continue." The middle aged woman did so.

"Atiya told me that no one would help her from the docks to the Lavender District. Somehow she knew to come to me. She knew I would help her, which I did. After two weeks, she managed to recover from her deathly state. We spent many days knitting together, making beautiful pieces of clothing. They became popular for a while—people came from all over the island to purchase and trade with us. Atiya also had an interest in gardening, so she planted flowers in my small plot of land outside. They grew so beautifully. It was a marvelous time for us. She spoke dearly of all her children, especially you. She felt so bad that she left you and your siblings. For days she cried out to God to forgive her. I cannot remember when she left that guilt-ridden state. As soon as she recovered from that, smallpox took the island over, killing children and adults. Unfortunately, she could not avoid it. Atiya fought for weeks, trying to do things on her own when she well knew that she was to rest. In the spring of two years ago, it took her life. Before she died, she asked me to bury her in the garden so that a part of her would live on by giving the plants her soul, her blood. The night she passed, she thanked me for everything I had done for her as if she knew she was going to die. When I found her in the morning, it was as if she were sleeping. I said a prayer for God to keep her in his memory for the resurrection and fulfilled her burial wishes. I only knew her a short time, but it was as if I were living with an angel," she finished. Raja was on the verge of tears, but her body would not allow them to flow. Altaïr was now leaning against the wall, arms folded with his head down.

The girl stood up, clenching her jaw tight.

"Thank you, Nyota. I think I will bathe, then go to bed," she softly spoke, eyes fixed on the ground.

"Alright child. If you and your husband don't mind, you will use your mother's old room." Raja's whole body stiffened, and she exhaled slowly.

"That's fine. Good night," she whispered before disappearing up the stairs, leaving the remaining two alone. Altaïr never looked up at the woman in the chair, slowly putting together what looked like a dress.

"Your wife needs comfort. It's obvious she is in distress," Nyota said.

"I am aware of that. It's not always best to face a fire head on," he replied.

"True. It's not advised for a man and his wife to be apart in one's time of need, but I cannot say what you should and shouldn't do." He said nothing more to her and decided he would retire as well. The assassin swiftly ascended the stairs, passed by the first open door—more and likely Nyota's room—passed by the second where he heard dripping water, and into the last room, which was lit by one large candle on the dresser over the head of the bed. The room's smell was indescribable. The air was stale, like it had been trapped in there for years. Altaïr knew that smell all too well. It smelled like _death_. The chamber was hollow and cold, like a mausoleum. This was where Raja's mother had died. The lifeless sensation didn't bother _him_, but he knew Raja wouldn't be able to sleep soundly, which meant she would bother him all night.

She came in through the door, wearing a less clingy, less revealing gown than she had worn to bed before. Her skin was glowing and lively, but her eyes weren't. Her shoulders were hunched and her head was down towards the ground.

"Why can't you be more supportive, Altaïr?" she asked him. He continued to disarm piece by piece. Raja grew frustrated at his refusal to answer.

"Why don't you speak to me? I've known you for three years now and we have gotten nowhere in this relationship. All we do is fight and bicker and insult. Nothing nice is ever said between us. It's almost as if we were truly husband and wife without knowing it." He allowed her to continue after saying, "Are we finished with this discussion? It seems you make mention of this every time we speak." Her brows furrowed and her fists were clenched tight. Raja was trying her best to remain calm. Altaïr was beginning to grow irritated and his patience was growing thin. He had no time for pointless conversation.

"Of all people, you have to be the most difficult, the most stubborn, the most proud and the most _arrogant_ man I have ever met. I have never lived with someone as difficult as you. Now I know why Malik wanted to kill you for so long." In a flash, the assassin was angry. He turned to her, more ominous than before, his eyes intensely hot.

"Do not mention what is none of your business, woman," he growled. Obviously she had hit a soft spot, a memory he longed to forget. But still she continued, just to see how far she could push him.

"Now I know why you are the way you are. Malik's younger brother died and you still feel responsible. Malik lost his arm because of you. Al Mualim took away your rank as Master Assassin and you had to start over as a Novice. You tried so hard to regain your pride as an assassin while your brothers spoke ill of you behind your back." In less than a millisecond, he was on her, backing her into a corner, his large palm on the wall next to her head. Their faces were just a few inches away from each other's, his eyes focused on hers still. The light brown intensity struck no fear into the woman.

"You know _nothing_ about that!" he hissed through gritted teeth. His imposing frame swallowed her whole, his wide shoulders blocking her view of everything behind them. Despite the looming presence, Raja pushed forward, defiantly speaking yet again. No other woman would have dared to even get a contemptuous glare from this deadly man.

"Oh I do, Altaïr. And it explains everything. You care about no one but yourself. If I were to be kidnapped, or even _killed_, you wouldn't even care!" she yelled. With all that off her chest, Raja found herself feeling much better, the angst in her chest fading away. His breathing was still heavy and loud as he glowered at her. The assassin's exhales tickled the flesh of her lips, and she found it hard to breathe with him so close. Her lungs deprived of air, she let out short, stiff exhales through her mouth, looking him up and down. He inclined his head, his brows furrowed. She eased her way out of his proximity and left out the door before he could latch onto her.

Raja's feet carried her down the stairs to find that Nyota was on her way up, the two women nearly bumping into one another and tumbling down the stairs.

"Nyota," she breathed with surprise, hoping she hadn't heard their argument. But it was obvious the woman had, her eyes tight and sharp with solid determination to see what was going on in her home. She sighed, relieved that nothing had happened to the girl.

"I thought he was trying to harm you, so I was coming upstairs to help you. What happened?" she asked, heading back down the stairs to lead Raja into the living room. Nyota sat down on the bigger couch this time, worry still etched on her face while Raja sat next to her.

"All of my emotions came out at once. I've been thinking about a lot of things in my life: my mother's death, my father's last request, and most importantly, my marriage to Altaïr," she explained, receiving an understanding nod.

"Married life is tough when you have to deal with someone as callous as he. Why did you marry him in the first place?" She thought about it a moment, trying to conjure up a lie. But she concluded telling the truth would probably give her the answers she needed to dealing with such a difficult man.

"Well, the truth is...we _are_ married, but only because we cannot travel as two single people. I've known him for quite some time, but our relationship has never been a romantic one. Quite the opposite, actually," she added with a wry smile.

"Now I know why I thought you were lying. You two are so distant, it couldn't be true. Wasn't there someone else you could have traveled with?"

"Not really. Two women would get taken advantage of, and he's the only man I know that can protect me without getting any strange ideas in his head. But we have such different personalities, we fight often."

"From what I heard, it was you doing all the yelling. Are you sure the arguments aren't one-sided?" Raja grew slightly irritated at the implication Nyota was making.

"What do you mean?" she asked, beating around the bush to see what the wise woman would say. But instead, she received a throaty chuckle in response as Nyota stood up to go upstairs.

"Aren't you going to answer my question?" Raja asked, watching her climb the stairs. She paused and looked at the girl, saying, "You will know what the problem is in due time. Until then, continue to put up with him. I'm sure he's not as bad as you portray him to be. We all have some things that others aren't going to like, but you learn to look past that and just enjoy one another's existence. If we all looked at each other's imperfections all the time, every single being in this world would be alone." Nyota left it at that and disappeared up the stairs. Puzzled, Raja stood to grab a quilt off the arm of the couch, then laid down, staring up at the ceiling. Her mother used to talk to her in riddles and encryptions to make her think for days on end. Sometimes it took her weeks to find out what they meant. And when she did, they always had something to do with herself or a mistake she made in the past. Maybe this one was not so different.

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Notes from the Author:

Resurrection: The words Nyota say mentioning the 'resurrection' makes light of her hope of a new world that is described in the Bible, described by the prophet Daniel at 2:44 of his book, John 5:29 and Revelation 21:1-4, written by the apostle John. The resurrection is one part of the new world that will be ushered in by God, as some faiths believe. To find out more about this if you are interested, pick up a copy of the Bible and read it. Or you can ask me—I am quite the Bible scholar and historian.

As far as the next chapter is concerned, it will come heck of a lot sooner than this one did. The last time I updated was in September, I believe? Yeah, that won't happen again. Sorry for the delay. And the next chapter or two will be quite informative and conversational. Until next time, please review for me. Try throwing in some criticism if anyone found anything wrong with this chapter. I'm always willing to make improvements.


	27. Redemption

A/N: Hello, readers and fans! The last chapter ended with our two heroes in dissension(and possible gestures of attraction, maybe?), and this chapter will go even further. Enjoy!

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Chapter Twenty-Seven~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Redemption~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

After the one-sided argument upstairs, Raja found it nearly impossible to sleep. Her conscience was weighed down with guilt. She said terrible, horrible things to Altaïr—yet, they were true to his own disadvantage. He _was_ arrogant and overconfident. Sometimes it burned as hot as the sun, and Raja could not stand the intensity of it.

Sighing, she turned over onto her side, looking at the shadows of the swaying trees dancing on the wall. Then she thought about something.

'Am I so different?' She asked herself. She could be overbearing sometimes, as well, but she was never arrogant. Next to Moses, she was probably the meekest person to walk the planet. But unlike most women, she was highly intelligent and knew many things the next person wouldn't know, thanks to her late father. With that knowledge, she grew independent of others and their opinions of her. She always spoke her mind on every subject without a moment's hesitation. In the past, her mouth had gotten her in trouble and almost cost her life.

At last, she realized the problem: they were, in fact, more alike than she thought. Both of their personalities and who they were was so strong, they'd often bump heads—unless one was to take the lead while the other followed. After years of being the oldest sibling, Raja deemed it necessary that everyone follow in her direction.

She failed to realize that Altaïr was to take the lead, not her, for he was a man and she a woman. Man was created first, woman second, and she was to be in subjection to her husband, which was the case in her situation. Raja was so used to making her own decisions, listening to only her conscience and that of God's, never under the authority of the male gender. This relationship was a difficult test of humility, and she was not sure if she wanted to pass it or not.

'What am I to do, Father in the heavens?' She asked, now looking up at the ceiling. The floor above creaked—someone shifting around in bed, perhaps. Her eyes gazed wide-eyed at the darkness above her, until it finally hit her. After all her years of reading and learning from the ancient manuscripts of the Bible, it came back to her.

She had done it before. Altaïr accepted it once before, so he may accept it again. Raja was going to apologize to him…

…..when she had the courage to do so.

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Raja didn't know when she fell asleep, but when she did arise from her slumber, Nyota was humming in the kitchen and evidently making breakfast since delicious aromas were wafting through the air. There was no sign of the assassin, and she was grateful she didn't have to confront him about last night first thing in the morning.

After peeling the heavy quilt off her body, Raja followed the delectable smells coming from the room straight ahead. Nyota was at the stove, stirring something that smelled like it was being burned.

"Do you need help?" the younger woman asked. The older woman glanced at her, flashing a warm smile, then said, "No, my child, I'm fine. Breakfast will be done in a few moments, so why don't you go clean yourself up in the meantime?"

"That I will, Nyota." She exited the canteen and started up the stairs after grabbing her dress, listening for Altaïr's footsteps in her mother's room. She heard nothing and continued towards the washroom with her clothes in her hands. After closing the door, she pulled her nightgown over her head, letting it fall to the floor, then slipped her dress over her body.

Raja left the washroom, clothes in hand and returned downstairs, where Altaïr was sitting on the couch, glaring at her intensely. Despite the feeling of eyes on her, she walked into the kitchen, sat down at the table, and began eating as if nothing was wrong.

'How am I going to approach him when he looks at me like that? It's like being in the presence of the Devil himself! I just need to confront the issue head on and be done with it so we may continue this journey without standing on hostile ground,' she thought, chewing her food carefully. Nyota was occasionally stealing glances at her.

"Are you alright, Raja?" she voiced. With her line of thought broken, Raja looked at the woman dumbly.

"Huh? I'm fine...Just thinking." After finishing, she quietly excused herself from the table and headed outside. The sun was already bright and burning in the blue sky when she opened the door. The people of Dion were alive and spilling into the streets already. The scene instantly reminded her of Jerusalem.

'I had forgotten how beautiful this city was. It was a mistake to leave, but my Father requested that I see him, and I'm glad I did. I still remember him saying he loved me and my mother. All that anger I had towards him was for a big misunderstanding.

After I find this child and return him to Banghezi, perhaps it will be best for me to return here and live a simple life. Nyota would make a wonderful companion after all is said and done.'

With that in mind, Raja returned inside to grab her things and start heading back to the ship. Altaïr was just on the other side of the door and she would have ran right into his chest if she didn't back up in surprise. He merely looked down at her and let her by. That scene didn't happen as she thought it would. She expected another harsh exchange of words or even some physical contact. But it didn't come, which she was thankful for as she grabbed her brown sack of clothes and returned to Nyota, who was finishing the dishes just as she walked in.

"Are you leaving for Italy, child?" she asked. She nodded.

"The boat will be leaving in an hour at the most. I thank you very much for allowing us to stay here for the night. I-" she started to say, but didn't finish her statement. Nyota turned to her, waiting for the girl to finish her thought.

"Yes, Raja?" The younger woman wanted to tell Nyota of her plans to return and stay, but felt it be best if she let herself think it over for the next however many months they'd be in Italy.

"Never mind. I must be going now." Without further words, she turned around and left out the door. Altaïr had been leaning against the side of the house until he saw her walking past him and down the hill, so he followed a few feet behind her. The walk back to the sea-faring vessel was much shorter in duration than the trek away from it, for they returned to the boat shortly. None of the other passengers had yet arrived, so all that was on the boat were the crew members and the captain, who was pushing brown crates across the deck. Raja wondered where his son was at the moment if not at his father's side.

The captain was busy with his men, bare-chested in the lukewarm morning. As he heaved and pushed wooden crates around, Raja noticed the way the muscles in his arms moved under his freckled skin. She didn't acknowledge until now that he was in fact, made of a strong build like that of Altaïr. Shaking her head, Raja dismissed the thought as her eyes met the captain's.

Flann saw them approaching and greeted them with a big smile. He seemed to be in a good mood.

"Good day, Miss Rajanah. Altaïr," he addressed, slightly bowing. "How did you two sleep?"

"We slept fine," she answered quickly; her words came tumbling out of her mouth. Flann frowned for a moment, then resumed rolling the barrels into place by the stairs. He didn't seem much too concerned about her marital problems at the moment, and it stung for a brief time, but it was better that he not try to figure anything out at the moment. There was a lot of pressure on her as is.

Raja walked across the deck and descended the stairs to their room, which was spotless and shiny once again. She exhaled in relief and placed her bag on the floor before lying across the bed. It was so soft and cushiony against her hardened frame it felt as if it had her under a spell. Her eyes began to feel heavy and she would have fallen asleep if her name wasn't called several times.

With new-found vigor, she jumped off the bed to her feet and returned to the deck, where an exhausted messenger stood with his head between his legs. He was breathing hard as if he'd been running. The other passengers were on deck as well, watching the scene before them as if they'd never seen a delegate before.

"Raja, this messenger came to give something to you. Whatever it is, it came from a 'Kalal'," the captain told her. The name rang bells in her head and she politely took the letter from him. The precise spacing of the letters and the slant of the words let her know it was her father's handwriting.

But it couldn't be.

Her father was dead.

"We are now departing for Messina!" Captain Flann exclaimed from the helm, distracting everyone from the situation at hand.

"Thank you for delivering this to me," she told the forerunner. He bowed then calmly left the boat. After his departure, the travelers continued filling the boat, quietly murmuring about what just happened. Slightly annoyed, she continued to examine the letter.

"What does the letter contain?" a husky voice asked. Altaïr had appeared suddenly, making her jump slightly. Her temptation was to run far away from him at the moment, but the boat was already pulling away from the dock and heading for open sea. Her last chance to escape from his accusing gaze for a long time.

"I don't know," she sighed, trying to keep her cool.

"Don't hesitate to read it. It may contain vital information that will help us find the boy," he suggested. It sounded more like a command to her and instinct told her to say something smart back, but she kept silent and replied, "I will, Altaïr." It seemed as though he weren't angry about the night before. There was no hostility in his tone and he didn't even try to harm her. Raja wanted to ask if he was angry about their argument, but decided not to. Why start a confrontation when there was no need for it?

'Tonight, I will tell Altair I'm sorry. No matter what happens.'

Nightfall came quicker than Raja had expected, and what happened that night was most unprecedented. Dinner was delicious, which everyone voiced to Mr. Guifei, who was glad to be of service. Even though Altaïr didn't voice it, she could see he enjoyed it just as much as they did. His plate was empty before she had even sat down to eat. Raja laughed inside at the fact, and finished her meal with even more determination to make amends with him. A grumpy, famished man was not pleasant to deal with.

"Raja," a voice called suddenly. Her head perked up, searching for the source of the voice. Captain Flann called her out again, this time waving his hand for her to see. She got up immediately and went to him. A crowd had formed on the deck, so she had to excuse herself many times as she pushed her way through since no one seemed to be courteous enough to make room.

"Yes, Flann?"

"I noticed you were not very happy when you returned to the boat."

"Oh?" She pretended not to know what he was talking about. He drew closer to her, whispering in her ear.

"Did something happen between you and Altaïr?" he asked, right on point with the situation. She froze, not knowing how to answer. He had the right to be concerned, but letting him know about the entire situation was all bad.

"...Yes," she replied. He hesitated to reply and she looked up at him. His green eyes were sharp and small, and his salmon-colored lips were tight. That look never meant well.

"Exactly what?" She licked her lips, deciding how much and how little to reveal.

"We had an argument last night." Obviously, that was all he needed to hear, for he marched right over to Altaïr, despite Raja's protests.

"Flann, please! You don't understand!" she beckoned, holding on to his arm. Little by little, the other voyagers looked on curiously after hearing the strained voice of the woman. He gently brushed her off and stood over the assassin, who was cleaning his blade once again.

"I have had enough of you," the captain told him. Altaïr's eyes moved from the red-haired man to Raja, who was looking away in shame. His eyes seemed to flash like lightning when the shine emanating from the sword was reflected across his face as he turned it in his hands.

"I assume this is concerning something she has told you."

"Yes. She has told me how callous you are towards her. When you take someone as your wife, you are to treat her like a queen, not like some accessory. Miss Rajanah is a very beautiful young woman who could have been with someone to her liking rather than her father's, so the least you can do is show her some respect." Raja finally entered the conversation.

"Altaïr, please don't do anything harsh," she begged quietly.

"I didn't plan on doing anything. This discussion has no purpose. And our marriage doesn't concern you, captain," he replied coldly. Flann clenched his fists, the white of his knuckles even more transparent than his skin.

"It does concern me. Rajanah is my friend, even though that may be hard for you to believe. And whether it concerns me or not, when a woman is unhappy and her good for nothing husband doesn't do anything to solve it, I interfere," he snapped, unsheathing his blade. If she could, Raja would have burst into a million shards of chaff and blew away in the wind at that moment. What was once a minor issue between herself and Altaïr was now a concern of a near stranger. If she had chosen her words carefully—better yet, never have opened her mouth, this precarious argument would have never happened.

"I'm not sure if you want to walk this path, captain," Altaïr warned him, standing up to his full height. Flann seemed unfazed by his precaution.

"It's too late for that," he declared, getting into a defensive stance. The surrounding people backed up a few feet, creating a circle around the two men. The scene made Raja sick to her stomach. No matter where people were, no matter where they were from, they were always eager to be entertained—even if it meant bloodshed.

From her readings as a teenager, she'd found out about the ancient Romans and the coliseum, where gladiators were pitted against each other and sometimes wild animals were thrown into the arena. Prominent and impoverished filled the stadium as men slaughtered one another and blood coated the brown sand. Violence was such a senseless way to solve problems—it only created more hate and tolerance for animalistic practices of human against human.

The assassin unsheathed his blade, standing a few feet away from Flann. Raja took the moment of inactivity to lightly grab hold of Altaïr's robes in an effort to convince him to back down.

"Altaïr, please. You don't need to-" she got out before he forcefully pushed her away with just a gentle push of his hand. Raja didn't realize this was more than a provoked quarrel—it concerned his pride, and Altaïr would do anything to protect it from harm, which he failed to do so the first time around.

Flann was the first to move in, coming in from the right with a horizontal swipe aimed for Altaïr's chest. The assassin easily deflected it, their swords creating sparks as they scraped against one another. The two men broke apart, this time Altaïr moving in with deadly swiftness, his blade going for an early kill. The tip barely missed the captain's neck as he tilted his head back a split second early. He saw the opening, Altaïr's right arm exposed to battle, and Flann brought his sword down and sliced through the air. Altaïr simply charged forward, ramming his shoulder into Flann's and making him stumble backwards. The assassin was thinking two steps ahead, causing him to grow frustrated.

The captain's face was cherry red, and Altaïr returned to his original defensive stance, his sword pointing out towards his opponent. The captain's red-haired son finally got to the heart of the commotion, worry and shock on his face. Raja caught sight of him as he ran in to interfere.

"Father, stop!" he cried. Raja grabbed hold of his narrow wrist and held it tight. For a boy his age, he should've been able to be rid of her easily, but it seemed he couldn't fight back at all.

"You can't go out there. Your father has his mind made up," she tried to convince the boy. His dark blue eyes looked into her hazel ones and they finally appeared to lose their intensity. He stopped trying to pull away from her and helplessly looked on as the battle continued.

Flann moved in again, locking swords with Altaïr once more. He was pressing all his weight onto his sword to make the assassin fall onto his back. Altaïr, on the other hand, was simply maintaining his balance, his hilt resting on top of the captain's. The red-haired man was so focused on winning the lock-up, he didn't anticipate the hard punch to his right cheek. His head twisted to the side upon impact and he spit a mixture of blood and saliva onto the deck.

"Why don't you stop joking around and fight?" Flann asked through gritted teeth.

"To tell the truth, you aren't much of a challenge," Altaïr insulted. The two men broke apart, now circling slowly as their eyes met. Just before a third spar was initiated, Raja jumped in again, moving her body in front of Altaïr's. He did nothing to move her out of the way this time.

Every time their swords clashed, Raja's heart skipped a beat. She liked swords and other weaponry similar in design, but when they were used to bring harm upon another human, she hated them so.

Flann's son had gained the courage to stop his father as well, placing his hand gently on the sword. The pleading look in his offspring's eye made him exhale softly then replace his blade in its sheath.

Altaïr lowered his weapon, but was still weary of Flann, who seemed to be paying the assassin no mind at the moment. Raja's hand was resting on his, trying to calm him down. His rate of breathing hadn't increased and not even the slightest hint of aggression was on his face. He had said before that the confrontation was senseless.

The crowd that encircled them was slowly breaking apart as the voyagers retired to their sleeping quarters. No more sword fighting meant no more excitement in their mundane lives.

"Put your sword away, Altaïr," she beckoned softly, her eyes burning into his. He looked away for a moment to sheath his blade, then looked on as Flann approached. Raja turned around to face him and his son, who was bright red for some odd reason. He was looking everywhere but at Raja. She assumed he thought of her as pretty and smiled. The assassin waited for the other man to say something.

"If the fight had gone on any longer, I believe we would have killed one another. Miss Rajanah would be a widow and my son an orphan."

"The fact after the matter would be your son as an orphan. Nothing more," Altaïr commented.

The same warm smile returned to the pale man's face as he pondered over that statement.

"Hm. If you say so." The pair of redheads started to walk away as the married two headed downstairs.

"Oh, and Altaïr..." Flann said. Coolly, the assassin turned his head ever so slightly to listen to the captain's words, but only felt flesh and bone connect with his jaw in a forceful jab. He staggered forward a little at the blunt force of the punch and regained his balance. Enraged, he started to march towards Flann, but Raja grabbed him and tried her best to hold the bull of a man back. Her slippers were sliding across the deck as he moved.

Laughing, the older man said, "Consider us even now," before he disappeared into his quarters for the night.

Raja and Altaïr retired to their room in silence along the way. She was trying to find a way to apologize with the utmost sincerity, while Altaïr—well, he never was one for small talk. A purplish bruise was starting to form on the surface of his tanned skin after the cut decided to coagulate.

_How am I going to apologize to Altaïr when he's not in a good mood?_ she asked herself, removing her slippers. That night was one of the nights she didn't feel like undressing.

Altaïr had already removed his weapons and was currently removing his tunics to slip into a relaxed shirt in a dark shade of blue. The garment was something she had never seen him wear before. Trying to stir up conversation, she cleared her throat before asking, "Aren't you going to tend to your bruise?"

"That's all it is," he said, never looking up at her. Raja tried a different approach.

"Let me dress it," she ordered, reaching for her wild yam in a jar. He shot her a venomous glare before sitting on the edge of the bed. She crawled over to him with a purple-colored salve on the palm of her hand and sat cross-legged in front of him. Altaïr was looking directly into her eyes now. The bruise on his face made him to appear as a mortal man, a fact she entertained in her mind over and over again.

Raja finally looked away, focusing her sights on his cheek. She dipped two fingers in the cold substance and smothered the damaged skin in it. Altaïr didn't seem bothered by the freezing temperature of the tingling salve.

"I'm sorry you had to fight the captain, Altaïr. I shouldn't have mentioned anything about what happens between us." He hummed, filling the silence.

She exhaled sharply. The rest of the salve she wiped onto her dress before she began.

"Altaïr... I have something else I want to say," she piped quietly, looking down at the bed. Her heart was in her feet and her stomach was turning itself inside out. But she had to say it, or things would never become peaceful between them.

"...I'm sorry for insulting you the way I did last night. The situation with you and Malik at Solomon's Temple was none of my business. I shouldn't have tried to use that against you. I'm sorry for being impulsive and insolent all the time and always trying to find a way to stir up an argument. I didn't realize that being an assassin is not only your job, but your life. An Assassin is what you are and what you were born to do, and I didn't realize that being able to become something other than that would be hard for you to do. I failed to respect you for who you are and I only hope you don't hate me forever," she said. She took his silence as a refusal to accept her apology and she spoke quietly.

"Very well. I understand if you don't want to accept my apology." She crawled to her side of the bed and got under the covers. Sighing, she blew out her candle and closed her eyes.

_The next two weeks seemed to drag on forever. The monsoon winds were not flowing in the right direction, so there were many days they'd sit in the same part of the sea until the winds picked up again. During the last few days of their journey to Messina, Raja made a startling—and quite insightful discovery..._

The first incident occurred in the kitchen, when no one else was around. Raja had decided she wanted some more mint leaves to prevent another vomiting episode, so she descended the stairs to fetch the leaves. She heard soft whispers around the corner, so she placed herself flat against the wall and strained to listen.

"...only way to keep you safe, Anna." The concerned voice was definitely that of Flann's.

"...even for a few days?" The questioning voice was docile, innocent even. It was definitely a woman speaking. Raja decided she'd take a peek around the corner, and would have screamed if she hadn't bit her tongue.

Captain Flann had a curly red-haired woman in his arms, passionately kissing her. The light from the window made it impossible to make out the facial features, but the woman reminded her of Flann's son. She was rather short, had narrow shoulders and pale skin like that of Kaelan's. Raja had never seen this woman on the boat when they were in Acre, nor in Dion. The captain must have sneaked her on board in the port city sometime during the night and made her his lover.

With that running through her mind, Raja tip toed back up the stairs. She decided the mint leaves could wait.

The captain returned to the deck minutes after Raja did, but not with the woman he was osculating below deck. Kaelan had returned to the deck with his father instead. Furrowing her brows, Raja was dumbfounded.

'What happened to the woman? She must still be in the kitchen. Unless...No,'she told herself, shaking her head violently.

'That's impossible. And _that_ could only be true if he knew witchcraft, which is absolutely useless and unreal.'

The second incident occurred two nights later, when Raja felt it best for her to apologize to Flann after what happened between him and Altaïr, even though he had considered them to be in calm water.

"Captain Flann?" she called out, rapping on his chamber doors. She heard commotion behind the wooden door and eased it open slowly. The commotion she heard was actually two people, apparently in his bedroom. Perhaps Flann could introduce the woman to her this time instead of being deceitful and keeping her hidden.

Raja poked her head around the corner to yet another startling discovery. In the dim candle light, she could see his blankets moving and two people underneath them, intertwined in love, whispering sweet nothings to one another.

"I love you, Flann," the same woman moaned. Her face appeared above the blankets momentarily, and that was all Raja needed to see. The woman was Kaelan; Kaelan was a woman. He was a little too limp-wristed and wide-hipped to be an adolescent boy. No one else would have noticed such distinct mannerisms or the difference in build between a man and a woman.

"I love you too, Anna," he told her. Raja's jaw dropped in immense shock as she quietly made her way for the exit.

'The captain is sleeping with his son, who is in fact a woman!' she kept telling herself as she absent-mindedly slipped into her night gown. Altaïr had been watching her for some time in her zombie-like daze. She had stopped buttoning the front of her garment to think about what she just saw.

"Is something bearing down on your mind?" he asked, breaking her trance. It was a surprise to her that he spoke. They hadn't said a word to each other since she apologized. She looked up, into his honey brown glare, then resumed buttoning up her front.

"I made a startling discovery today," she told him, settling into the blankets of their bed.

"Oh?" he asked, sounding interested at the smallest level.

"The captain's son is actually a woman. His lover, to be exact." Altaïr had experienced a similar discovery just before he killed his master.

Maria, Robert De Sable's steward, took his place at Majd Addin's funeral so that he may escape to Arsuf. Moments before he would have killed her, he removed the metal helmet to look into the blue eyes of a woman. He presumed it was witchcraft, but allowed her to explain all that was to happen. He decided not to kill her and allowed her to leave with a warning not to follow him. She gladly parted ways from him, but their roads eventually crossed again in Cyprus, where he followed the remaining Templars to kill them.

She was no longer in high standings with the Templars since she was a woman and was treated poorly. Her body was withered and weak, but still she fought on, pitifully trying to end Altaïr's life many times. It was obvious she wanted revenge for her dead companion she was obviously very close to, but when all the other members of the Templars met their demise, Maria simply faded from the world and was never seen by the assassin again.

"What do you intend to do with this information?" She turned over onto her side, facing him.

"Nothing. Good night," she said, quickly turning back around and pulling the cover up to her shoulders. The bed creaked under Altaïr's full weight as he settled next to her. His body heat reached her being in a few minutes, insulating her chilled body as she drifted off to sleep.

xxxxxxxxxx

The day they arrived in Messina was a happy day. All of the voyagers were eager to set foot on dry land, nearly pushing one another off the side of the boat in anxiety. Raja was mixed up in the crowd, holding her bag high above her head. Someone stepped down on her foot, making her howl among the loud conversations happening on deck.

Flann was standing on top of a barrel, cupping his hands together.

"Everyone please find somewhere to sit down! The boat will be arriving at the port of Messina in a few minutes!" he shouted. The crowd obeyed, bodies no longer crushing Raja's form. She exhaled loudly and made her way over to the captain, who was currently speaking to his 'son'.

Raja stopped in her footsteps, then continued moving towards them. When they heard her slippered feet, they turned to greet her, each beaming with joy. She knew exactly why they were radiating with happiness.

"Good morning to you both," Raja told them.

"Aren't you glad we can finally rest without getting seasick?" Kaelan asked her.

"I am," she replied truthfully. The captain turned to his son, ordering, "Do you mind going below deck and retrieving my textile bag?"

"Sure, Papa," he complied, running across the nearly empty deck to the stairs. Raja watched as the captain's eyes doted after him.

'He must really love that woman.'

"Is there something you wanted to say?" he asked her, his green eyes still observing the area where Kaelan disappeared below deck. Raja was insane to be asking such a personal question, but it had been biting away at her for three nights before.

"Is Kaelan really your son?" she asked barely above a whisper. Furrowing his brows, he turned his gaze to her. She grew slightly afraid of him at the disbelieving look he was giving her at the moment. Every man had to have a darker, uglier side to him such as this.

"Yes. Why do you ask?" Her hazel eyes had to look away before she got lost in his smoky green eyes forever.

"Well...I saw you and Kaelan...kissing in the kitchen a few days ago," she fessed, twirling her fingers.

"Really? What else have you seen?" he demanded as if he knew she was there when they were being _intimate_.

"I went to your room to apologize for Altaïr two nights ago and saw you with a woman. A red-haired woman." Neither of the two had noticed Kaelan had returned and was listening to every word they were saying.

Flann's face turned a pale shade of red.

"I see. What you say is true: Kaelan is not my son. _He_ is a _she_, and _she_ is my wife, Anna." His wife handed him the bag he asked for, then took his hand in hers.

"Allow me to explain. Anna is a Celtic princess and we fell in love at first sight. But with me being a mere sailor at the time, we couldn't marry. Anna begged her father while I agreed to pay any amount for her hand. He refused for he was biased against men of the sea, claiming we were all lecherous pirates. So Anna disguised herself as a boy and escaped in the night to my ship, and we sailed far away until we came upon the Holy Land two years ago. We've avoiding the ports Europeans often use just in case they may recognize her face and take her away from me."

Raja fully understood the situation now and was impressed with their tale.

"You are a princess? This is truly an honor," she told Anna, bowing slightly.

"Please don't. The other passengers would notice," she told Raja politely.

"We're here, captain!" his second in command said, gathering the rope attached to the anchor. Raja looked west, unaware that land was literally right in her face.

xxxxxxxxxxx

End of chapter! A lot was going on this time around, I know. My updates haven't been coming out as soon as I'd like them to and I apologize.

If people noticed, especially those who have played AC: Bloodlines, I mentioned Altair running into Maria again in Cyprus. He actually sails for the island to kill the rest of the Templars and viola! he meets her again. I won't speak of his fate because that's for everyone to discover on their own.

Obviously this story is on an alternate timeline, so everything that happens doesn't really happen in game's storyline. If anyone was wondering, Adha doesn't come back in my story to make things complicated and I wrote Maria off by saying she 'disappeared'. Harsh, I know, but I gotta do what I gotta do.


	28. From Tranquility to Tribulation, part 1

A/N: Hello, readers and fans! Raja apologized! Yay! ^^I can finally get back to the actionny chapters! Writing all those talkative passages was making me lose my 'umph' for writing. Enjoy!

Also: As far as that song is concerned, in chapter 23 or 24, I didn't write it. It was the ending song from Final Fantasy: Spirits Within. This is a disclaimer—a late one.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Chapter Twenty-Eight~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~From Tranquility to Tribulation, part 1~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Raja couldn't believe her eyes. After a whole month at sea, she had finally made it to Italy. It looked like any other landmass at the moment, but the fact that she was no longer in the familiar sands of the Holy Land almost brought tears to her eyes. There was definitely no turning back from finding her little cousin.

'Even though you can't hear me, Father, I made it. I made it to Italy. I doubted myself for quite some time, but after seeing Italy before my eyes, the skepticism in my heart is gone.'

As soon as the crew members lowered the plank to the dock, the voyagers spilled into the wooden harbor and went their separate ways. The deck of the ship was desolate—with the exception of a few remaining passengers—seconds after they had officially touched land.

A seemingly indestructible smile was on Raja's face as she stepped onto the platform, excited to get her journey started.

"Where do you think you're going?" a friendly voice asked her. She stopped dead in her tracks and spun on her heel. Captain Flann was holding Anna in his arms. Without anyone else around to observe the couple, they were free to do as they pleased. Being of a somewhat prudish nature, Raja tried to focus on their faces rather than their actions.

"Your horse and husband are below deck. Are you that eager to run off without them?" he asked with a chuckle. Scratching her head, the absent-minded woman chortled shyly.

"I can't leave without them, can I? Thank you for reminding me." She hurried by them and skipped every other stair on the way down. Instead of heading to the sleeping quarters to the left, she turned right to the animal compounds. The creatures must have been aware that they were near land since they were making much more noise than Raja had ever recalled hearing from their cages.

As she passed by the leopard, it reached through the metal bars to swipe at her, catching her flowing skirt in its claw. Shrieking, she pressed herself against the opposite cell as she felt the air from his claw brush her face. Her heart refused to return to its normal rhythm as she continued to where the cloven-foot beasts rested, where Yasminah and Amin awaited to be released from the belly of the boat.

At moment's recognition, the mare approached the woman and nuzzled her. It had been about four weeks since they last communicated in any way.

Yasminah voiced the pining of her master with a whinny and Raja wrapped her arms around her muscled neck in a warm embrace. The mare's soft coat tickled her face, making her giggle.

Soft footsteps interrupted their special moment, and upon turning around, Raja caught sight of Altaïr walking towards her, perhaps to retrieve his steed.

Slightly panicked, she turned back to Yasminah, trying to busy herself with loosening the knot in her leather reign. It seemed to be adhered together, for it didn't budge at all.

Altaïr made it look simple and easy—he walked up to Amin's tied reign, untied it with his fingers, and let it hit the floor. He looked over at Raja, who seemed to be struggling quite a lot with hers.

"...Stupid reign..." she was mumbling as he approached. Her nails would have broken if his large hand didn't brush hers away, startling her a great deal. Raja stepped backwards, crushing his foot under hers before landing against his chest. How he managed not to fall in all that commotion, she didn't know.

To keep her from falling, he grabbed hold of her left arm.

"Thank you for that save, Altaïr," she sighed, setting foot on solid ground. He immediately let her go and resumed untying the reign. It took him longer with this knot than it did Amin's.

Altaïr finally handed her the reign, then took Amin's into his hands and started down the hall.

"It's harder than it looks, isn't it?" she asked him as she followed up the stairs.

"Nothing is difficult for me," he told her. Raja frowned for a moment, but said nothing to the man. When they returned to the surface, Flann was speaking with Mr. Guifei, who had his bag in his hand while Anna stood off at a distance. Apparently, Italy was his final destination, as well.

Raja walked by the conversing men, exchanging a farewell by means of the eyes with the captain and then leading Yasminah to the dock. They traveled to the end of the dock in silence until Altaïr spoke to her when they were walking side by side.

"You didn't say goodbye to your friend."

"We did, in our own way. I think I would have cried if we actually said anything to each other," she fessed. He hummed yet again before silence filled the air.

Wait—Altaïr just started the conversation, not me,' she noted. Her heart leaped in her chest at the thought.

But that happiness didn't last long when she realized they were not in familiar lands. Italy was nothing like the Holy Land in its geographical makeup, and more and likely the cities and villages were just as different. Even the weather was not what they were used to. Damascus and Jerusalem were stifling, but Italy was unbearably _hot._ Altaïr and Raja's current articles of clothing would not do.

Despite the scanty change in temperature, Messina was beautiful. The houses were evidently made by the same architect since they were all geometric in design. Trees were abundant in the city and ran all the way up the mountain, as well as the homes. To the west of their current location was a beach with white sand and deep blue waves crashing against the shore.

She turned her sights to the life teeming within the town, discovering that the people were tanned with dark hair and dark eyes, not too contrary from those living back home. They seemed jovial enough, crowding the streets and filling the air with busy chatter. The little children ran past her and Yasminah, giggling and tagging each other until they rounded a corner and disappeared.

Raja felt refreshed by the new city, the new people, and the new air that surrounded her being. She decided that one day she'd return to Messina for that renewal once again.

The two were moving at a slow pace, but even at the low level of energy they were using, Raja was sweating bullets. They were in a courtyard with a fountain when she decided to finally rest. It seemed as though Altaïr could keep going, for he would have continued up the hill if she didn't call him.

"Altaïr, we need to stop for a moment," she told him, going for the skin bottle on her saddle. Thankfully, it was full but was emptied into her mouth and down her parched throat in seconds. The cold water helped alleviate some of her exhaustion, but she needed more. In order to not be on his bad side, she didn't voice that she needed to refill her canteen.

Raja stood up, wiped her forehead and continued leading Yasminah up the hill. Altair had not yet moved, and to her surprise, ordered, "Sit." She obeyed willingly, a little confused.

_Shouldn't we be trying to get somewhere where we can rest?_

"We are standing right in front of an inn," he informed her, taking her horse's reigns from her gently and leading the beasts to what appeared to be the stable hand, who was busy fanning himself with a large leaf. When Altaïr stood in front of him, the boy straightened up quickly, accepted the money he gave him and took the pair of animals to the stables behind the lodge.

He returned his gaze to Raja, who was busy wiping her forehead with her sleeve. She looked past Altaïr to the women carrying baskets of clothing. Their clothes were made of a lightweight material, perhaps cotton. Instead of a dress, their garb was cut in two, their bellies exposed to the light breeze in the air.

'Hm...Maybe I should modify some of my clothes...'Raja thought before meeting Altaïr's eyes with her own. His brows were slightly furrowed in concern-? Whatever it was that she saw on his face was gone, replaced with the usual nonchalant demeanor.

"Shall we go inside?" she asked him, standing up on shaky ankles. He stepped to the side, allowing her to walk ahead of him to the inside of the tavern. At the counter was a short tanned man with dark wavy hair swatting at flies buzzing around his head. Looking all around her, Raja noticed the inside of the inn was very tasteful to visitors.

All of the rooms were upstairs with an auburn-colored door and the walls were pale orange with deep red flowers strategically painted onto them. A fountain made of limestone sat directly in the middle of the room, carved into the shape of a dolphin in mid-leap.

"Hello, my name is Romero. How may I help you two lovely people?" the owner asked, not showing the least bit of enthusiasm at all.

"We would like a room," Altaïr requested.

"How many nights will you be staying?"

"Is it possible for us to stay one to two months?" Raja butted in, pulling out her sack full of denier. The keeper's eyes instantly focused on the bag on the counter, trying to calculate exactly how much money was in it. Altaïr placed his hand over the bag, clutching it in his palm and breaking the man's greedy trance.

"No one else has asked for a room for such a long period of time, but I can make an exception at the right price," he said with a smile. The dark-haired man never seemed to pay attention to Raja's existence, his eyes always fixed upon the assassin next to her.

"How much do you want?" Altaïr asked.

"400 denier for two months." Raja nearly gasped at mention of the cost.

They hadn't even started their search, and already their resources were nearly depleted. She hadn't considered that the Holy Land's currency was not worth much in Italy and vice versa.

"Settled," she said quickly, spilling what looked like 400 pieces of silver onto the counter top.

"I hope that satisfies you," she told him, watching his hands eagerly snatch up the money.

"It does. Thank you and enjoy your stay," he said with a wave of his hand, dismissing them. Raja shot him a dirty look that went unnoticed as they walked up the stairs.

"Your room is all the way at the end of the hall. Beautiful honeymooning room," Romero shouted after them. The disgruntled woman stopped in her tracks for a moment, biting her bottom lip. She really wished that no one mentioned 'honeymoon' again.

Altaïr opened the door wide, observing their new surroundings. When Raja saw their room, the thought of her money being spent in such a way was not as bad as she thought.

The canopy bed was much bigger than the one on Flann's boat, with well-made blankets folded at the foot of it and two plump pillows at the head. The wooden frame sat up high off the ground, allowing ample space for someone about Altaïr's size to crawl underneath it. The lavatory was over to the left, and from what Raja could see from the doorway it would be just as promising as the bedroom. There was even a small nook with a cooking space, which meant Raja could save a lot of money and simply buy the foods they needed to cook and prepare them on her own.

"This is some place," she whistled, placing her bag on the divan. Altaïr turned around and started to head out the door with his bag in his hand.

Worry on her face, Raja asked, "Where are you going?"

"I will return soon," was all he said, then continued walking down the hall. Hunching her shoulders, Raja closed the door behind him for a little privacy from the outside world.

She returned to her bag, laying every dress she packed on the bed, deciding which ones would be butchered while the others stayed in one piece. Six garbs lay and three would be altered to make living in the slightly hotter conditions easier. Her favorite dress she was inspired to make by an English woman would stay the same, as well as her short-sleeve violet red gown and the deep blue one, as well. Her sleeveless green ensemble—her current outfit—along with the white and the orange were going to be torn in two.

Raja grabbed her scissors and clipped off the midsection of her dress, feeling the cool metal against her belly. The skirt started to fall down her hips, so she grabbed one of her scarves and tied it at the hip, securing the clothing to her body. She sighed, relieved that as soon as she allowed her skin to breathe, the sea-born winds flowed into the room and tickled her flesh.

'New clothes, new city...Maybe I should add a new hairstyle_..._' she thought, taking up the scissors again. Raja hadn't cut her hair in three years and as a result, her thick black hair was down to her buttocks.

'Maybe just a _little_...'she told herself, clipping it off so that it fell to her waist. Frowning, she clipped her bangs so that they fell to her eyebrows with a slight flip. She looked in the mirror provided by the inn in the lavatory, still dissatisfied with her hair. Again, she cut it, but turned her attention to the majority of her hair. When she finished, the floor all around her was covered in black curls. Licking her lips, Raja looked into the mirror again and smiled. It was perfect. The long, plain locks she was used to were gone, replaced by layer upon layer of flipped hair, complementing her heart-shaped face.

_Much better_ she told herself, feeling quite confident with her new 'do'. After ogling herself for a few more seconds, she stepped out into the room and started folding the dresses she decided not to alter, dismissing the approaching footsteps as another guest returning to their room.

The door opened slowly, creaking just a little but was ignored by Raja, who didn't look up until she saw someone standing there in her peripherals. It was Altaïr, who had apparently just returned from the bath, since his robes were a blinding white. His eyebrows were arched up in surprise as he looked upon her drastically altered appearance, making Raja smile as she continued putting away her clothes.

"Is something wrong?" she asked him. The physical form was as Altaïr remembered, but the voice was not hers. In fact, it was not her at all.

"No. I left for a short period of time, so I didn't expect you to change so exorbitantly." He walked over to the bed and slid his satchel under it. He laid down on his side of the bed.

"I felt I needed a change. New country, new people, new clothes, new hair. I may look different, but inside I'm the same Raja," she told him, sitting down on the bed. Altaïr glanced up at her before speaking again.

"Perhaps." Her hazel eyes fell upon the handsome profile of his face.

"What does that mean, Altaïr?" she questioned with curiosity.

"I'm sure you're smart enough to figure that out." Raja thought deeply for a moment, then jumped off the bed and headed for the door.

"Where are you off to?" he demanded of her, never moving from his spot.

"I will return soon," she mocked playfully, closing the door behind her. As Raja descended the stairs, she felt hungry eyes on her exposed flesh. She tilted her head up, keeping her eyes focused on getting out the door without even saying a word to the little man.

The sun was right on her neck when she stepped foot into the street. The light breeze had ceased, and the air was heavy and muggy. Raja stuck her tongue out of her mouth for a moment, then sought to explore Messina a little further. To the east was the somewhat familiar road she and Altaïr used to get there, and to the north west was a wide avenue leading up the foothills. She decided to go to undiscovered territory, of course.

* * *

Hauling baskets full of clothes was not her way to have fun, but her husband and children had gone through so many dresses and pants and shirts, the laundry had to be done two days earlier than she was accustomed to.

The woman liked doing everything on a schedule she made herself, with every household chore set to be done on a specific day. These random requests she sometimes received from her husband threw off her week completely and made her overall mood turn sour. And sometimes she took it out on her children, whom she loved dearly and never wished to do such a thing.

That day—and others in the future—she had to be especially careful with her work load. After she decided four children were enough, number five was growing every day in her womb. She didn't know what she'd name him or her. Only four were imprinted in her mind: Fariid, Hassan, Lilandrah, and Karida.

_If it's a boy, I'll name him Titanio, after his father. If it's a girl, I'll name her Rana._

With that delightful thought in her head, she continued walking up to the washing basin until a complete stranger bumped right into her, sending the basket of clothes out of her hands to the ground.

* * *

"I'm so sorry, ma'am," Raja pardoned quickly and quietly, helping the woman put the clothes back in the bushel.

"It's quite alright," the woman told her, bending over as well. Upon standing erect, Raja's eyes widened as she looked upon her own face. The woman's eyes were wide as well, noticing the striking similarity in appearance to this woman whom she'd never met before in her life.

"Are you seeing...what I am?" the woman asked, holding her cheek in disbelief. Raja nodded twice.

"I am. This is...odd. We look so much alike, yet we have never met. Are you my long-lost twin?" she asked.

"Definitely not. I know all my siblings. My name is Adha. And yours?"

"Raja," she exhaled, then shook her head, picking up the woven crate, saying, "Let me help you take this up the hill. An expecting woman shouldn't be doing this kind of work."

"All right, um, the basin for washing is right over there," she instructed, pointing to an enclosed area with several faucets. Raja set the pannier down, then dropped the articles of clothing in the water one by one, trying to stir up conversation. Adha started first, scrubbing what looked like a pair of black pants.

"So, how long have you been in Messina?" the soft voiced woman asked.

"About three hours. My husband and I just arrived from Acre." At mention of the city's name, she halted her cleansing, then resumed quickly.

"Acre? Isn't that in the Holy Land, some thousands of miles away?" Raja wrung out a red dress before replying.

'I have to be careful about what I tell strangers this time. I don't want another senseless fight happening again because of me...'

"Yes, that Acre."

"What's your husband's name?"

"Altaïr," she slipped out before catching her tongue.

The woman dropped the shirt she was washing, one hand covering her mouth in an instant. Raja dropped what she was holding in the water and put her hand on Adha's shoulder.

"Is everything alright, Adha?" she asked. The pregnant woman shook her head, regaining her senses.

"Yes, everything's fine. It's just that the baby is kicking a lot right now."

"Maybe you should rest for a moment," Raja suggested, sitting her down on a stool, then returning to the clothes. The disquieted woman watched her clone at work, thinking, _It cannot be the same Altaïr I am thinking of. He would never travel this far. And what is he doing with this woman who looks exactly like me? They cannot be married. It's not possible._ But yet, here the truth was in her face, washing her family's clothes.

After another hour of scrubbing, Raja hung the last piece of damp clothing on the rope above her and sat down next to her new friend, who was still staring at her so strangely.

"So...where is your husband?" Raja asked outright, since Adha had asked a personal question already.

"He's on his way home from Rome. Is there any particular reason you and your loved one would come such a long way?" she asked, trying to clear some things in her head.

"No. We desired something new, so we came here. What does your husband do?" Raja asked, keeping the conversation on her husband since that was the subject they started with.

"He was in the Crusade, fighting with the Christians. They've been doing a lot of things in Italy, things I don't know of. He claims it only concerns the men he fought with."

"Hm," Raja voiced in wonder.

"What does your husband do for a living?" Adha flipped the question on her, receiving a blank face as she thought.

_If she's telling the truth, then what she says his profession is confirms my suspicions..._

"...Um, he was in the Crusades, as well. He was not a part of Salah ad-Din's army nor King Richard's, however." Adha's intense black eyes bored holes into hers as she leaned forward, nodding.

"Tell me more," she requested of Raja, who was growing quite uncomfortable very quickly. She stood up, inching towards the direction they didn't come from, into a narrow, dark alleyway. Adha stood as well, walking towards her with outstretched hands.

"Where are you going?"

"I have to go. I told my husband I'd return before noon and it's a little past that. He doesn't like to worry," she said as if it were all one word.

"It was really nice meeting you, but I really must be going." Before Adha could say goodbye, Raja was down the alley, almost tripping over her skirts in a hurry to get away.

xxxxxxxxxx

'That woman was so weird! She kept staring at me like I had three eyes. And when I mentioned Acre and Altaïr, it's almost as if they were familiar to her...' Raja thought as she made random turns at different cross streets. All the houses started to look the same, so she became disoriented very fast and came to a halt in a desolate courtyard.

She sat down on the nearest bench, rubbing her temples with her fingertips.

'I'm lost. Like an idiot, I went in a direction I didn't know. Great.' Raja turned her gaze upward, to the sky. The sun was burning even hotter at this point in time, adding to her irritability with herself. Within four hours, she managed to be marginalized by a greedy inn keeper, run into a strange pregnant woman who could've been her twin, and gotten herself lost in a city she knew nothing about. No one in the world was as uncanny as Raja Ai'in.

"Lost?" a familiar voice asked, making her head whip in every direction. Altaïr emerged from the shadows of where she had just come from, standing some feet apart from her.

"Have you been following me?" she asked him, standing up to meet him. They walked side by side down the street.

"Yes, as a matter of fact I have. I spotted you when you started walking down the dark alleys, which was not a smart thing to do," he scolded her.

"I know it was dumb of me," she sighed, accepting her verbal punishment. Raja turned away from his sights. He grabbed her by her wrist, bringing her attention to his glare.

"You are in a city you do not know, with people who can be as dangerous and unpredictable as anyone in the Holy Land. You must be careful," he instructed her. She nodded in understanding, then noticed that they were touching. His gloved hand was cold against her slowly tanning skin, so she immediately touched the side of his face, which was abnormally chilled as well.

"You're so cold," she noted, worry in her voice. He removed her hand from his face, let her arm go, and continued walking with her in tow.

"You have been in the sun all morning," he corrected her.

"Right," she sighed, returning to her place beside him. They walked in silence, and Altaïr managed to steal a few glances at the woman next to him. Her new hair cut was more appealing, in his opinion, and her change in clothing stirred up the most unusual feelings in his heart. They were not those of lust or desire, but a sort of itch to discover.

As they traipsed down the cobblestone road, the pair strode past a group of guards having casual conversation until they took notice of Raja, a very attractive woman they had never seen before. Their eyes longed after her lecherously, but were smacked back into their sockets when they acknowledged the man in white next to her. At first, they were stone still in fear, but the leader found the courage to call them out.

"You two, stop!" Altaïr knew that they suspected him, not the woman he was with, so he began running at full speed. Raja followed, struggling to sprint with a long hem in her foot's way. She realized what she had to do and grabbed either side of her skirts in her fists and started picking up speed as she ran down the hill. The guards followed, swords already drawn.

'Can we go _anywhere_ without getting into trouble?' she complained silently, trying to keep up with the quickly disappearing assassin. Altaïr was unnaturally swift, still creating a larger distance between him and Raja, who was running at full speed.

Glancing behind over her shoulder, Raja noticed the guards were moving quite slow, shouting pathetically after them.

When she turned back around, the road split in two abruptly, and the assassin was nowhere to be seen. She assumed he climbed a rooftop and planned to ambush the men while they pursued her, like fish after bait. But he hadn't.

Just as she was running past the last row of buildings, a gloved hand jutted out of the dark alley and pulled her into the shadows.

Assuming it was a stranger trying to have his way with her, she struggled to break free from his iron grip as he flung her into the nearest doorway. His arms were wrapped tight around her form.

"Stop moving!" Altaïr hissed, crushing her into the wooden door. Upon hearing his voice, she calmed down immensely, trying to pace her breathing. The assassin's breathing was in sync with hers as he looked out into the street, awaiting the thunderous footsteps of the guards. Raja noted how even in the heat of danger, he managed to keep calm, his eyes never losing their cool.

When they finally came within a few meters of their location, his hold on her body intensified, her head so close to his chest she could hear his heart thudding loudly like thee thundering hooves of a thousand horses. Her own heart was racing a mile a minute as she held onto the front of his clothing.

"I know they came this way!" one growled, running right past them.

"Spread out and search every house!" the leader demanded the other three. The others left their comrade behind as they fanned out into other directions.

Raja felt the tension leave Altaïr's body as soon as they left, since there was only one to deal with now. But apparently, her companion was not in the mood for a quarrel, for he didn't venture out into the street to end his life with his hidden blade. Instead, he looked on as the commander scanned every rooftop around him and every window, never bothering to look into the alleyway that they were hiding in.

'He's going to see us eventually,' she thought dreadfully, watching him slowly but surely walk away. Some divine force must have misguided that man.

When his footsteps could no longer be heard, she let a long exhale escape her lips as she rested against the wall. Altaïr was still looking towards the streets, just to be sure they were gone for good. He turned back to Raja, who was still trying to catch her breath, her head tilted slightly upwards, lips barely parted. Her hair was windswept all over her head, sticking to her face where sweat slicked it to her skin. She looked the way she did when aiding Hifah in the birth of her baby.

"Altaïr, are you alright?" she whispered, waving a hand in his face. He had been so focused inward, he failed to pay attention to the fact that he was staring at her and had been doing so for quite some time. He blinked a few times, looking away. They started out towards the street, returning to the inn.

"I'm fine," he told her, struggling to forget what was on his mind.  
_

Another chapter! Yay! How was it? Good? Bad? Terrible? Let me know! I can make the story better if people let me know what's wrong with it. If I don't know how other people see this story, it'll just be bad chappie after another. Other people's thoughts count to me. They really do. I'm not trying to get as many reviews as I can; I just like to know what people think so I can improve it for the reader.

This chapter was somewhat shorter than the last 2, so I'm sorry. The following chapters will probably be the same length, 5000 to 6000 words long. Until next time, yes? :)


	29. From Tranquility to Tribulation, part 2

A/N: Hello, readers and fans! I finally reached the 100 review mark! Wahoo! I'm not boasting or anything, it just feels good to know people like my writing. I may do some extra chapters after the story officially ends in a couple weeks, just for the readers.

**A friend always makes living a little easier.-Anonymous  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________**

** ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Chapter Twenty-Nine~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~From Tranquility to Tribulation, part 2~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Altair and Raja were in front of the inn when she remembered that they needed food for the next couple of days, but she had forgotten her knapsack in her bag.

"When we get inside, I need to grab something and then go to the city street market to buy food," she told him, leading the way upstairs. Romero was nowhere to be seen. She opened the door to their room, welcoming the trapped cold gusts into the hall as she walked through.

Under the bed was the large canvas bag she needed, which she grabbed quickly along with her remaining denier and walked back out the door. She was completely unaware that Altair was following her to the outside, perhaps to ensure her safety like the last time.

That woman she was talking to looked so familiar to him, yet he couldn't recall who she was when he observed her from such a great distance. There was a moment when he couldn't distinguish Raja from the woman, with the exception that she was heavy with child.

They arrived at the open air bazaar-like area very near to where the land portion of their journey had begun. There were various sellers of spices, vegetables, fruits and meats organized by food type down the avenue.

Raja decided that they needed every kind of food she could get her hands on, but she couldn't buy them all at once since her money was halfway depleted.

The woman started with the vegetables, which she examined carefully piece by piece.

_Okay, we need lettuce, yams......._ she whispered to herself as she scanned through them with her eyes and hands. Altair was some ways away, watching the people around her from afar. It appeared as if she weren't in any danger, but he still refused to let down his guard even a little. The patrols were more and likely still looking for himself and Raja.

Finally, his eyes rested on the woman, who was in her own world at the moment and smiling pleasantly to herself as she searched for the right foodstuffs. When she wasn't being argumentative or yelling, she was subtly attractive to him. He realized that, in fact, she had changed since they left Masyaf.

Raja had become humble again to a certain extent, like the time when they first met all those years ago. But, she kept this alluring sharp-tongued wit that demanded attention and refused to go unrecognized.

After about half an hour's time, she had a bag full of goods and was returning to the tavern until she saw the man in white leaning against the wall of a building. A little surprised to see him, she stood in front of him with the sack on her back, hands on her hips.

"I expected you to follow me here. Did you think I would cause trouble this time around?" she asked him.

"Those guards from earlier could be anywhere. We must return to the inn as soon as possible," he instructed her, pushing himself off the wall and leading the way back to the tavern.

_I guess I can't go to the beach, then _she thought, sighing quietly as they returned up the hill. Little did she know that Altair had heard her exhale, sensing something was wrong with her. The assassin looked back at her for a split second, noting the brief smear of disappointment in her brows before turning back around. He wouldn't address it until they were in their room.

When they got inside the hotel, Romero was there that time, sleeping in his chair with his feet propped on his desk. His mouth was wide open and his snores sounded dry, like his throat was sapped of all moisture. Raja looked upon him with disgust before watching her every step to the upper level.

Neither of them had seen the other lodgers yet, leaving Raja to wonder if anyone else stayed at this inn. Was there something everyone else in Messina knew about this place that they didn't? She hoped that wasn't the case.

Altair allowed her into the room first before closing the door behind them. As she carried the purchases into the little area for preparing food, the assassin asked, "Is something bothering you?" The woman paused for a moment, her hand still on the head of lettuce.

"What makes you think something's wrong with me?" she asked back politely.

_I hope I'm not sending the wrong body messages to him....._

"Your mind seems to be elsewhere," he replied. Raja continued with the green ball of leaves, separating the damaged ones from the edible.

"I wanted to go to the beach, but you said those guards might be on the lookout for us, so I don't want to get us into any more trouble with a silly little thing I want to do. The beach might be dangerous, as well," she explained. The assassin said nothing as he laid back down on the bed. The silence in the air became a sleeper hold for him, so he allowed his body to get the much needed rest.

-

-

When he awoke approximately an hour later, heart-warming smells filled the air, rousing him out of his nap. Altair sat up, his eyes looking in the direction of the small dining area. Raja was making the both of their plates, humming softly to herself. Her sweet voice surprisingly calmed him more than he already was as he sat up. She turned around, oblivious to his awakening until she looked up.

"Oh. You're awake just in time. This is one of the best dishes I can make," she told him, handing the flat pottery to him. The hot food was still giving off steam when Altair began eating. Raja smiled warmly as she moved around to the other side of the bed to sit down and eat her own food.

_This isn't half bad, Raja_ she commended herself._ Boiled cabbage, goat and couscous never tasted so good before. _Within a few minutes, Altair was completely finished, cleaning his teeth with his tongue like a fattened lion. As she picked up his plate to put it in the washbasin, she asked, "How was it?"

"It certainly outmatches the cooking in Masyaf," he replied, standing up to his full height and following her to the sink-like fixture.

"I didn't think I was that good of a--" she managed to get out as she turned to face him. Raja hadn't expected him to be right behind her when she turned around. The nervous woman tried to step back, but the counter was blocking her only escape from that honey-eyed stare. She reminisced to the boat when she was tending to their horses--Altair was giving her that same stare, not of hate, but a twinkling interest.

Biting her bottom lip, Raja looked down at the ground shyly, trying to hide the blush creeping across her cheeks. A feverish bubble surrounded her being when she looked back up into his eyes. They were no longer cold and calculating as they were before. They were surprisingly warm and welcoming. She figured she must have gotten to a special level of a relationship with this callous assassin to receive such kind glances from him. If she told all the other girls in the castle about this encounter, they'd be jealous to the utmost degree.

His heavy hands had found their way to her narrow waist as he brought her even closer to him, their faces just maybe a few inches away. The tips of their noses finally met, causing a tingle to shoot through the branches of her nerves. The flesh of their lips touched for a moment, until the floor beneath them began to rumble and violently jerk forward, sending Raja head first into Altair's jaw and crash to the floor on top of him.

Disoriented, she lay dazed for a moment, trying to collect her swimming thoughts. Altair sat up, rubbing his jaw for a moment, his eyes accusing her as the reason for his pain.

"Are you alright?" Raja asked, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other on his sore cheek. He gently removed her hands from his body and helped her to her feet.

"What was that?" she wondered aloud. The dishes were teetering on the edge of the counter top, and she was quick to place them back on a level surface.

"An earthquake," he informed her.

"All the time I've been living in the Holy Land, I've never experienced being in one." She chuckled for a moment, putting a hand to her fluttering heart. "That felt....different."

"Come with me," he commanded her, going out the door. Hesitant at first, she followed quickly, walking down the stairs past Romero, who was cursing under his breath as he picked up pieces of his broken miniature statues that were on his desk. Laughing inside, she went out the door into the humid evening, following the man she called her husband for the time being.

_ I wonder if Altair would still want to be married after we find my nephew. After what almost happened, he must have some kind of feelings for me, unless that was just how he was feeling at that moment. But how do I feel? This heavy pang in my chest isn't going away.....It must be from the earthquake..  
_

As Raja wandered around in her thoughts, she kept one eye on the assassin in front of her as he led her into the orangish-red evening. There were more people out at dusk than there were during the day, perhaps because it was too unbearable to be out in the full blaze of the sun.

The path Altair chose appeared to be the same one they used from the docks until he made a sharp turn to the left, walking down a street with neatly rowed houses at the beginnings of what looked like the beach.

Altair half-slid, half-walked down the sandy slope, followed by Raja who barely kept her balance in her slippers. She came down slowly, arms outstretched, swinging in every direction to keep from falling. A small grin danced across the assassin's lips as he watched her face turn up in desperation.

When on level ground, she wiped the sweat from her brow, then looked up at her husband, who was subtly amused with her antics.

"If I had fallen, would you still be laughing at me?" she asked him, hands on her hips.

"If it is appropriate," he replied with another sly grin thrown in her direction, treading through the shifty terrain until he was a few yards away from the shore. She took her place next to him silently, her eyes reflecting the bright red sun set. The waves of the ocean roared loudly as they crashed against the sand. Other than that constant noise, it was terribly peaceful, different from the hustle and bustle of the city. A sense of awe and greater humility stirred up in her heart as she stood there.

_Only God can create such a powerful force on this earth. _

Her throat a little dry, "Why did you decide to bring me here?" she asked Altair.

"You should just appreciate the thought I've given it," he replied coldly, perhaps expecting her to be more appreciative for the things he did for her.

"I am appreciative!" she exclaimed, receiving a chilling glare from Altair, then quickly added in a much quieter tone, "I didn't think that you'd spend your time doing something so......childish."

"You consider coming to the beach 'childish'?" he asked, turning to her slightly. A little uncomfortable, she explained, "You just don't strike me as the type to do what other people want to do, especially something unworthy of your time, since you are an assassin and all."

"Everyone deserves a break every once in awhile," he referred to himself and to her. Their eyes met a moment before she smiled up at him before removing her slippers and running to the wet, darker sand. The waves returned gently, bringing ice-cold water to her feet and she squealed in her throat. It had been years since she had last done this and this time she was alone. All the other occasions Raja was with her brothers and sisters, throwing sand and splashing water on one another. She could remember their giggles that filled the air, as well as her own as they chased one another down the shoreline. Life was so simple and beautiful back then.

The memory of Raja's late siblings made her chest heavy, so she stood still for a moment to pray for them. A warm tear fell from her eye, which Altair didn't fail to notice. The brief litany was over seconds later, and she continued walking through the warm sand at a much slower pace, back towards where she came from.

"I'm ready to go now," she whispered to Altair as she walked by him. He tenderly grabbed her wrist and turned her around to face him. She kept her head down, away from his burning gaze. Raja didn't want to bring up the topic of her family and create a less than comfortable atmosphere between them.

"What are you crying about?" he demanded softly. She looked up, studying his face. His voice sounded much more sincere, lesser than that usual growl of a tone. He sounded much better this way, in her opinion.

"It's nothing," she replied, wiping her wet lashes with her finger.

"If anything, there is something bothering you." He stood closer to her, his gloved hands on her biceps. "What is it?" The concern was much clearer in his question this time, so Raja was compelled to answer. Her hands rested on his chest.

"The last time I came to the beach, I was with my brothers and sisters. This place reminds me of them." He assumed she was missing them at the moment. Where did she say she was from? Banghazi was where they were waiting for her.

"You'll eventually see them again," he assured her, emotionless. She shook her head.

"Not any time soon. They're dead. Murdered by Templars." She felt his muscles tense up at mention of that name, the fact that her siblings were dead, or both.

"I'm sorry," he said, not sounding the least bit of it.

"Don't be. It wasn't your fault," she replied. The conversation was over, but he had yet to let her go. "I want to thank you, Altair, for bringing me here."

"It was nothing," was his way of saying you're welcome. Raja licked her lips before speaking again.

"I never thought our relationship would evolve into this," she said with a chuckle.

"What did you expect it to become?"

"I'd been attacking you with my words every chance I got. I thought eventually we'd never see eye to eye on anything." Raja felt her throat swell shut as she looked down. Her eyes returned to his a moment later, wide and watery. Altair was a little taken aback--he had never seen her so effeminate, so dependent before. Whatever was on her mind must have been of great importance.

A light curtain of rain fell down gently upon the couple, slowly but surely dampening their clothes.

"And now here we are, pressed against one another in the sand. Just a few months ago, I was far away in Crete. Two months ago, I returned to Jerusalem and saw you again after so long. I didn't know how to feel when I returned. I don't even know how to feel now, at this moment."

"Then don't think. Act." Just as he moved in to press his lips against hers, something--thankfully--told him to grab the girl and dive into the sand. An arrow whizzed by his head and landed in the sand next to them. He heard her scream when he tackled her to the ground, but it sounded distant, an echo even. Her scent of milk and honey was exaggerated inside his nostrils and he could hear his heart beating in his chest. This feeling was all too familiar. This high only came around when a fight was to ensue.

His hearing returned to normal as he helped her off the ground and pushed her towards the streets.

"Go!" he commanded her, unsheathing his sword. With a worried look, Raja grabbed her skirts and returned to the streets, running as fast as her feet could carry her. She cursed being devoid of weapons--she could have stayed and helped him. Even a fallen branch would suffice.

The girl started to returned to a fast-paced walk as she got farther away, looking around for some kind of projectile to hurl at the archer.

"After her!" a voice ordered, sending men in dark orange tunics after her.

_Darn it!_ Raja gathered her skirt in her hands again and broke off into a sprint back up the hill. All of the vendors were gone, their carts along with them which could have been used to block their path momentarily. If she called out for help, no one would come to her aid for fear of their own lives, and Altair was busy on the beach with the other however many guards. She was on her own for now.

Making random twists and turns at every cross street, Raja began to tire out rather quickly. The guards were closing in on her fast. What would happen to her if they caught her? Only the worst came to mind, so she continued against the burning protest in her calves.

Her stamina was completely gone by the halfway mark up the hill, forcing her to skid to a stop to catch her breath. She could hear the guards as she stood with her hands above her head to allow more air to get into her lungs. As she did so, a pair of deathly cold hands grabbed her by her arms and pulled her into a rather warm house.

She started yelling at the top of her lungs until the same hands clasped over her mouth. Raja turned around to see the woman from earlier standing there, putting her pointing finger to her lips. Relieved, she obeyed as the woman blew out the candle and stood in the shadows.

"She can't have gotten away a second time! That man she was with has killed five of my men already! If we can get our hands on her, we can use her as a bargaining chip," one voice said right outside the window.

"That is if we can find her. She can be anywhere. Come on," another voice growled, followed by a dozen feet thundering further up the hill. Once the footsteps retreated completely, Adha lit the candle once again and sat down on the couch, her eyes fixed upon her doppelganger.

"Please sit," she offered in her gentle voice. Raja gladly took the invitation and collapsed into the cushions, still a little fatigued from her inclined sprint.

"Thank you, Adha. I thought they would have gotten me for sure."

"It's a good thing I live on this street, then. I thought I'd never see you again after you ran off," she said with a laugh. Raja scratched the back of her head, feeling quite dumb at the moment.

"About that, I'm sorry. You just sprang that question on me so suddenly. We don't know each other well, so I didn't anticipate it so soon."

"You'll have to forgive me for that. I can be quite the pesterer in a friendship." Adha rubbed her round belly a moment, thinking deeply.

_Maybe I should ask Raja about her husband again. She can't run away this time since those guards are looking for her. But maybe I should ask about that first to ease into the topic._

"May I ask, why were those guards after you? Did you do something to make them angry?" she asked with as much curiosity as she could. Raja chose her words carefully.

"No. My husband and I have been minding our own business since we arrived and they have grown suspicious of us ever since." Even Raja didn't know why they were after Altair and especially her. If they recognized him as an assassin, they had to do their job of catching, and even killing him, something Raja couldn't afford nor bear.

"That's quite strange. I always the believed the Messina city guards had nuts for brains, anyway," the pregnant woman joked. "About your husband. His name is Altair, correct?" Adha remembered his name since the day she heard it from his own lips. The lips Raja had probably felt against her own before she.

"...Yes." Raja shifted in her seat, slightly unnerved. The conversation could take all kinds of twists and turns at this point. She was hoping she could manipulate it in another direction, but she could tell Adha easily dominated the flow of any conversation she held so it would be difficult.

"Was he an Assassin?" she asked. Biting her bottom lip, "Yes," Raja replied.

_I already don't like where this conversation is going. If I were to leave, the guards would have a chance to grab me. I can't afford that since I don't know where Altair is at the moment. So I must stay and answer this strange woman's questions._

"He must have killed a lot of people in the past. All the Templars in the Holy Land were supposedly killed by him. That's quite a big deal for my husband." Raja's head snapped up, hoping Adha wasn't implying what she thought she was.

"Is your husband a Templar?" she requested of her, already knowing the answer.

"Yes. He's in northern Italy right now. Their base moved after the Third Crusade. I cannot tell you the exact city, since your husband is one of his enemies."

"I understand. If I were in the same situation, I would be wary of spouses of Assassins, as well."

"So tell me what your husband is like. They say Assassins are slick, cold and callous, like a snake." Immediately, Raja defended them. They had taken her in when she had nothing, fed her until she was satisfied, and put clothes on her back. She had become one of them in a matter of months.

"They aren't like that at all. Some are very kind, some are very generous. I have yet to meet a questionable Assassin." Adha hummed, thinking about those facts.

"What of your husband?" Her honey-colored eyes bored holes into Raja's.

"He's.....different from that. But not in a bad way. When I first met him, I knew he was the embodiment of an assassin: unfeeling, calculating. But after a while, I grew to understand him and it became more than that between us." Adha fidgeted a little, envious that the girl had managed to get that close to him.

"Do you call it love?" Sighing deeply, Raja ran a hand through her mane of hair.

"No. It hasn't grown to that yet. We haven't even kissed one time. Every time he moved in, something happens to keep it from happening," she exhaled, irritated that she had two chances to receive that privilege, but couldn't seem to have because of various interruptions. Adha seemed relieved. They were both in the same situation.

"Love doesn't always have to be physical, Raja. A simple gesture could go a long way with a man like your husband." Adha knew from personal experience what it was like to have a husband who rarely showed affection. His touch was gladly accepted by her every time he was in the mood for it, which was why she had four children with another on the way.

"This is true."

_I wonder if I should tell her of our relationship in the past. It no longer exists, so what harm could it do to her?_

"Raja.....what if I were to tell you I was from the Holy Land?" The girl looked up, brows raised in interest.

"Really?" Adha nodded.

"What if I told you I knew about the Assassins and their fortress in Masyaf? What if I told you that Altair was once my protector?" Raja's brows furrowed, hardly believing the words coming out of her mouth. Speechless, she allowed her twin to continue. She looked away for a moment, closing her eyes that were identical to her once beloved.

"What if I told you Altair and I were in love?" Awestruck, Raja's mouth gaped open at the woman on the opposite couch before closing it shut.

"You were at one time.......lovers?" she repeated, incredulity on her face.

"Yes. He told me he'd find me. He promised and he never came for me. I can see why." Raja stood up to her feet, heading for the door.

"What do you mean?" she asked in a hushed whisper.

"He found a replacement: you. We look exactly alike. There's no other reason he's allowed you this close to him. We never made this much progress into our relationship. He loves the way you look, not who you are inside." Those words were a shock to her system. Every joint in her body locked in place as she walked stiff as a board towards the door. How could a complete stranger insult her so, belittling her existence? Raja looked back at her one more time, noticing how much Adha resembled her ex-lover--light brown eyes, dark curly hair and that scowl on their lips.

"I'd stay away from him to avoid further misery and heartbreak. I'm telling you this as a friend, Raja. If he requests to know where I live, please promise me you won't tell him," was her first and final favor she asked of the girl before Raja opened the door to the rainy night. She wanted to run and never stop at that moment, allowing her legs to carry her anywhere.

Turning her gaze up the street, Raja noted the guards were more and likely still chasing her ghost up the hill. When she turned her sights down the street, the assassin was making his way to her, sinful red blood staining his white robes, which were quickly turning pink in the heavy rain. After what Adha said to her, Raja didn't want to be around him.

_Is that what he really thinks of me? After all we've been through?_

He was making his way to her when she turned away from him and started to run. Bewildered, he chased after her up the hill. Her efforts to get away from him were in vain, since she tripped over an overturned cobblestone and landed on her side. Plus, the fact that the assassin was inhumanly fast and closed the gap between himself and her in a matter of seconds.

Altair grabbed her by her waist, picking her up with ease. To keep her from running any further, he grabbed her by her arms and turned her around to face him.

"Are you hurt?" he asked her, his eyes somewhat showing his concern. Raja tried to stand on her left foot, unaware that she had sprained it in her fall.

"I think I hurt my ankle," she informed him, gritting her teeth together to distract herself from the pain. Without hesitation, he took her off her feet and carried her bridal style to the inn. Their soaked clothes pressed against their bodies as the water continued to fall upon them. Raja wanted to walk there on her own two feet just to avoid relying on him for transport.

The two finally arrived at the tavern, wet through and through. Romero was sitting at his desk, reading a book(kinda surprising for a sexist idiot). He looked up in time to see them ascending the stairs to their room.

"I see you two got caught in the rain," he pointed out the obvious. Altair shot him an ominous glare as he continued going up the staircase. He opened the door and let themselves in before closing it behind them. The assassin carried her to the lavatory, sat her down on the included stool, and gave her her bag of clothing.

"Change your clothes before I tend to your ankle." Silently, she obeyed, starting to remove her top until she realized he hadn't removed his eyes from her body.

"Can you please leave?" she asked quietly. He simply turned and left the room, perhaps to change his own clothes. Now alone, she slipped off her top and the bandages wrapped around her bosom, then put on a fresh bind around her chest before sliding into one of the nightgowns Hifah had for her. Raja then cast her skirt aside and returned to Altair, who was on the edge of the bed tending to a fresh wound he must have received while fighting off the other guards. Immediately worried--and forgetting all about her previous conversation with Adha--she rushed over to him, asking,"Are you alright? What happened?"

"One of those cowardly men they call guards threw a cheap shot in the sword fight. I made sure he'd never be able to wield a blade again." She turned her sights to the gash on his back, seeping out blood from the torn flesh. It looked nasty, but it'd heal well in the next few days.

"Allow me," she whispered, taking the warm cloth out of his hands and pressing down on the injury. He hissed for a moment, his broad back heaving slowly. Raja placed it in a way that it would act as a temporary gauze as she went for her wild yam in her bag.

"I'll be right back," she said, speed walking as fast as she could with a messed up ankle to the bathroom, reaching in her bag for the jar and returning to her spot on the bed. While being supported by her knees, she removed the dampened rag, then applied the cold purple salve. Altair didn't seemed to be bothered by the cool sensation at all.

"You use that yam for everything," he told her. Chuckling, she replied,"It works doesn't it?" Raja then called to mind what Adha said earlier. Should she bring it up to Altair, to see what he said? She could have very well been telling a lie. They were fundamentally enemies, after all. It could have been a ruse to make them distant once again.

"Altair, what if I were to tell you......that I met a friend of yours?" He perked up, brows furrowed. The people he knew couldn't necessarily be called friends, so it must have been someone he knew from long ago.

"Who is this person claiming to be my friend?" he demanded harshly, that growling edge in his voice again, which intimidated her a little.

"She says that she was your lover from long ago. Her name is Adha." At the mention of that name, a flood of memories entered his mind of when they were together, memories that were very precious to him. He thought he'd never see her again, which might still be the case unless Raja was willing to tell him where she lived.

"She asked me not to point out where she lives to you. I think she prefers not to reenter your life," she beat him to the question. With that off her chest, she awaited his reply while wiping the excess yam off his back.

"I understand. Her life is no longer in danger; there is no need for me to interfere in her affairs." His voice was cold, but Raja could discern the small bit of sadness in his voice.

"Was I.....supposed to be a replacement for her?" Raja asked quietly. The silence in the air started to make her feel uncomfortable until he responded.

"How so?"

"We look exactly alike. Is that why you decided to allow me to live? So that you can have her again?"

"There was no reason to kill you when you came to Masyaf. The fact that you two look alike is merely coincidence. I have let go of all ties I had to her in the past, if any," he lied to her and to himself. Altair knew he was in love with that woman until she drifted away on that boat. At first, it did matter to him that Raja and Adha could have been twins. But now, he didn't care about their physical resemblance to one another. What did he care about, then?

"I see," she breathed, reaching for the fresh roll of cloth on his bed, but then realized the yam was all he needed, for the wound was shallow, more like a messy scratch than a gash. With the wound taken care of, she focused on the other scars on his back. They were many, some tended to, others left to heal on their own. Brushing a hand over a few of them, "So many scars," she whispered. Altair's immediate reaction to her light touch was to stand up and redress his upper body, but he chose to allow her to show some affection for him. He sat, feeling her fingertips caress his skin.

For some reason, Raja was saddened by the mutilation of his brown skin, tears flowing from her eyes as she rested her cheek on his back and wrapped her arms around his waist. He tensed up, unexpecting of this strong display of concern.

"I'm so sorry," she said to him, feeling the feverish warmth emulating from his body.

"None of this was your fault." Altair finally turned around to her, surprisingly holding her hands in his as their fingers intertwined and he brought her closer to him. The breaths from his nostrils tickled the skin on her cheeks as he kissed away her tears. She blushed lightly, staring deeply into his eyes, peering into his soul. There was something there she hadn't seen before, twinkling in that golden brown stare. What, she didn't know.

"Hopefully there'll be no distractions this time," he whispered to her, his words vibrating against her ears in that voice she wished he used more often. Raja smiled warmly just for him, making the tips of their noses touch again.

"I'll make sure of that," she whispered back before the flesh of their lips brushed against each other. Altair moved in slowly, covering her mouth with his in a passionate kiss. It was clear to her that he cared deeply for her--Rajanah Ai'in La'Ahad, and no one else.  


* * *

Whoo! Alright, Raja and Altair! They finally smooched. It was about time. They were arguing about when to put it in. I shut them both up and said it was going in chapter 29 and here it is. I hope the special moment was executed perfectly. What does everyone think? Review please to let me know!

Chapter 30 will be up in less than 2 weeks, I hope. Until next time, yes? ;)

Also: I finally played AC II. It. Is. AWESOME!!!!!!!!


	30. Farewell MessinaThe Long Road to Rome

A/N: Hello, readers and fans! Enjoy the very late chapter 30!

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Chapter Thirty~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Farewell, Messina—The Long Road to Rome~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

It had been about a day since they left Messina, and Raja found herself on the back of Yasminah yet again, traveling on a lush road headed north to Rome. Altaïr was ahead of her, leading the way since he was the one who had figured out where to go from the port. They hadn't said a word to each other since departure, and it was getting to her with every minute that passed. Had they not shared something special in their room the night before?

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Altaïr's fleshy lips continued to press against hers, dominating the embrace as they sat on the bed. His hold on her was tight, making it appear as if they shared one body. Raja hoped that the moment would never end, that he'd always be this close to her.

The assassin pressed his weight against her, pushing her back flat against the bed. The thin material of her nightgown made it possible for her to feel every contour of his muscled body.

One of his hands moved down, tracing her side until his fingertips were on her bare thigh, while the other slid the collar of her sleepwear down her shoulder to kiss the skin underneath it. Altaïr returned to her lips moments later, this time his tongue curling hard against hers.

Surprised, Raja let a soft gasp escape her lips, and she opened her eyes.

Alarms went off in her head instantly, and she pulled away, breathing hard and heavy. His eyes glared at her, not with anger, but with burning desire.

"Are you afraid?" he asked, his warm palms resting on her sides, making her shudder. Raja shook her head softly.

"No, I'm not afraid. I didn't expect this to happen so soon between us. This surprises me, is all," she fessed. "And," she added, "I found something out from Adha that may help us." Altaïr let her up, the intense moment now in the past. Her heart was still beating heavily in her chest, refusing to return to its normal rhythm.

"I'm not sure if she's the smartest woman in the world for revealing so much to me about her husband, but she told me he's a Templar." At the mention of the name, Altaïr's eyes flashed with interest for a moment.

"Was he home?" the assassin asked.

"No. She told me he was in northern Italy handling business. The Templar stronghold is in Rome somewhere," she told him, staring hard at the bed sheets.

"What if she was saying this to mislead you? Her husband could very well be in any other city in Italy. You'd be searching for years if he's even still here."

"I know my cousin is here somewhere. Wherever the Templars are, that's where he is because his father was a Templar. He'd leave his son with his brethren. He trusts them." She looked over at Altaïr, studying his face. His eyes were calculating and serious as always until she looked away. "Wouldn't you do the same if you had children?" The assassin didn't reply. There was no need to.

Leaving him with that question, Raja blew out the candle and delved under the covers.

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Altaïr woke up long before Raja did the next morning. He wasn't angry, sad, confused or perplexed about her last words to him. They lingered in his head, similar to the Nine that had left him with cryptic words before their demise. What did she mean? Was Raja implying what he thought she was?

He saw nothing wrong with what she wanted, but was it the right time? In an unknown country, no associates for thousands of miles and no stable—and safe—environment to start on such a request?

But then again, he recalled all the women he'd seen heavy with child walking up and down the streets and how graceful they were in such a natural state. The assassin was looking at the sleeping woman next to him. He knew seeing her radiating in her pregnancy like all the others would, in fact, be enjoyable.

Yet, him, a father?

And an assassin?

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Several hours later, Raja roused out of her slumber, discovering Altaïr was already gone. His side of the bed was much too cold for him to have just left.

Sighing, she sat up, stretched for a moment, and then carefully stood on her left ankle to test its durability. It throbbed just a little, but not enough to keep her from walking. After putting her full weight on it for some time, the pain eventually went away.

She grabbed her sleeveless green dress and proceeded into the lavatory to change. After sliding off her gown, she quickly threw on her garb and returned to the main room. Altaïr was still nowhere to be found.

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Altaïr wouldn't have lived another day sane until he'd settled this issue once and for all. She was maybe within a hundred yards of him after all these years. It was foolish of her to not want to see him. It took him months to realize he'd never find her.

He turned a corner, remembering that the street he was standing on was where he found Raja and she tried to run from him. He saw her exit a house to the right a little ways up the hill. He knocked on the second to last door, determined to satisfy his need to see the woman he loved so long ago.

It took her a moment, but she finally opened the door, perhaps expecting someone else when her smile turned into a look of shock and absolute fear. Their identical eyes met for what felt like an eternity. Yet the assassin felt nothing when he gazed upon her face again. He hadn't expected their reunion to be like this.

"Why are you here?" she asked finally.

"I had to see you," he fessed. The cold, sharp tone he usually used was gone.

"I told Raja not to tell you where I lived," she mumbled in an accusatory tone.

"And she kept her word. It's not easy to evade an assassin like me." She snorted, recalling how he found her when that brute Basilisk took her away.

"True. Why do you feel you need to see me? The love we had is gone. I have a husband," she said, and would have continued if her children hadn't gathered around her at the door.

"Mama, who's this?" her son of three years asked, looking up at Altaïr with wide brown eyes. That boy could have easily been his. All of the children she had encircling her could have been theirs—even the one growing in her very large belly.

"He's a friend. Now all of you go back inside." They all obeyed, scurrying after one another in what looked like it was going to turn into a game of tag.

"And I have children, as you can see. You have Raja now. It's clear she cares for you to a certain extent; go to her and please, leave me be," she requested of him firmly. He did as she said without hesitation, but not without leaving her with a kiss she had never received from him. The assassin left her life that day, sealed with a gesture that said all he needed to without words.

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"We have to go," a chilling voice jolted Raja out of her sleep. She had been waiting for Altaïr to return and had fallen asleep after some time.

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, "You finally return. I know there's no need in asking where you went." She gave him a playful smile. "We don't need to stay here anymore. I have a theory as to where the Templars could be." He said nothing, allowing her to continue.

"Rome is the capital city of Italy, correct? Along with being the capital city the government is also situated there, which means the law making and economic decisions are carried out there. Why wouldn't the Templars be in such a busy city full of influential men that can easily be swooned by bribes? Their hideout is somewhere in that city, though I doubt it's hidden since their strongholds are so noticeable here in the Holy Land."

"And you came to this conclusion based on what?" Altaïr asked. He wanted to make sure that they were going the right direction before they set out anywhere. As with his assassination targets, he needed solid facts before he did anything. He hated making mistakes.

"What Adha told me—and from previously learned knowledge." She stood up and took his hand in hers, giving it a light squeeze. "I know you're used to knowing every single detail about a subject before taking action, but I'm sure about this." His eyes peered down at her as he thought for a moment.

"I know my enemies well enough to know where they'd situate themselves, and the ideal location for them to have the greatest influence are the largest cities. We leave immediately," he told her. She let him go to fix the sheets on the bed, sighing out of uncontainable joy.

"Oh! We'll need to get my money back from Romero; we told him we were staying much longer than we needed to," she reminded the assassin.

"I've already taken care of it." She turned around to see him untying a pouch from his belt and tossed it to her. The bag was heavy with coins.

Tying it to her own belt, "Thank you, Altaïr," she breathed. With the room in the same condition it was when they arrived, Raja picked up her bag and headed downstairs. Romero was busy speaking with a potential customer, smiling in their face with a wide grin that looked more like a grimace.

'How does he continue to have business with a smile like _that_?' the woman asked herself. Outside, the sun gladly welcomed them with its burning radiance. She wondered how it could be so dreadfully hot after it rained all last night. Altaïr didn't seem to be bothered with the heat one bit, but she could see the beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Raja began to wonder why he didn't at least purchase a different cloak with a hood to allow his skin to breathe. In all the humidity he had to start smelling like a spoiled vegetable after being in the sun for some time. She had an excellent idea—for the both of them, actually. She just had to get her hands on a couple of yards of cloth.

The stable boy already had their horses at hand and handed them over after Altaïr gave him a few coins in exchange. He gave the couple a warm smile before returning to the shade of the palm tree.

Raja helped herself up to Yasminah's saddle then snapped the reigns to start off at a steady trot back towards the road that led north. Altaïr was right by her side, paying attention only to the road as the terrain drastically changed from rows of buildings on either side to wide open plains on either side as the city turned into scattered markets and houses.

She studied them for a moment until she saw a merchant selling exactly what she needed. Dismounting quickly, she approached his stand, admiring the rich dyed fabrics sitting on his counter. He noticed the way her eyes lit up and used it to draw her into conversation.

"So you are a sewing woman? Well, you came to the right man. These cottons are lightweight and durable. Freshly imported from Egypt." Her mother told her only to sew with Indian fabrics and if she ever could get her hands on it, to sew with Egyptian cotton. This was the first time she had laid her hands on the perfectly made material and only wished her mother was there to witness it.

Two colors in particular caught her eye: a very dark shade of blue and a medium gray that reminded her of Altaïr's trousers.

"I'd like ten arm spans of the dark blue and ten arm spans of the grey. How much will that be?" she asked the vendor.

"Eighty gold pieces." Satisfied with the price, she reached into her pouch and gave him what looked to be a little bit more than that. His eyes shone as bright as the gold in his hands.

"Thank you, young woman," he told her, still imagining what to do with his new earnings. The merchant put the currency in his pocket before grabbing his scissors, unraveling the darker cloth first, measuring and cutting it, then repeating the process with the other shade.

"Thank you, sir," she addressed him as she walked away, stuffing the potential garb in her sack. Altaïr looked on as she mounted Yasminah once again. They continued on their way, leaving the merchant behind.

"Why so much fabric?" he asked. Raja didn't want to spoil the surprise.

"A dress for you," she joked. He shot her a dirty look before returning his eyes to the road.

After hours of nonstop riding, Altaïr led their horses to the nearest rest stop in between cities. The sign in the middle of the road split into three arrows: one leading back to Messina, the second leading east to Bari and the last pointing north to Napoli, which led to Rome. They were closer than they realized to their destination.

Unfortunately, they couldn't continue on the road in the ever darkening evening and decided to stay at the nearest inn. It was small, but suitable for them for less than a day to rest.

Raja didn't realize until they were stabling their horses that it would be the second night they were to be alone in the bedroom. What had happened the night before may actually be carried through all the way this time, a fact she didn't want to face just yet. She wasn't sure if she loved Altaïr, nor if he loved her, so what point was there in giving herself up to a man she knew nothing about?

The inside of the inn smelled of fresh cedar wood and the keeper was much more presentable than Romero. This man was about a head taller than Altaïr, had shiny, thick hair and light brown eyes that seemed to smile at Raja when he noticed them approaching the desk. She shyly blushed and looked away like a small girl.

"Good evening. How may I help you two?"

"We need a room for the night," Altaïr stated. That was Raja's cue to take out the money.

"Of course. For one night, it's 45 denier." She counted every piece this time, and then slid the pile of silver pieces over to him. He gave them a smile. "Thank you. Your room is down the hall, third door on the right. Enjoy your stay here."

They disappeared down the hall and entered their room. It was not as luxurious as their room in Messina, but all that mattered at that moment was the bed.

Raja set her bag on it to grab her nightgown and turned her back to Altaïr to change her clothes. She no longer cared if he could see her backside—there was nothing enjoyable to look upon but the moles on her shoulders.

He turned his back to her as well to change and to distract himself from listening to her clothes falling to the floor. It was very simple and easy for him to do in the past, but with every night they spent together, it became that much more difficult to control the urge to look upon her body.

Finally, she finished, folding her clothes neatly and setting them down in the bag before climbing into the bed. The sheets were crisp and cold but refreshing from all the riding that they had done that day.

The assassin climbed into the bed next to her, staring directly into Raja's eyes. She stared right back, unaware of what it was he wanted from her at the moment. It couldn't have been...

"How far are we from Rome, Altaïr?" she asked, trying to break the silence.

"About one more day of riding. Are you growing impatient so soon?" he asked.

"N-no!" she replied instantly, "I was just curious as to how much longer our trip was to be. Today was very exhausting."

"Did you get enough rest the night before?"

"Yes. Perhaps it was the heat. Hopefully tomorrow will not be as stifling." Suddenly, she remembered the cloths she had purchased earlier that day and retrieved them from the bag along with her needle and yarn. Altaïr looked on for a moment.

"What I'm making is a dress. Do you want one, too?" she asked him with a smile. He said nothing and turned his back to her as she giggled to herself as best she could.

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The next morning, Altaïr awakened to a warm sensation on his chest that felt more like a heavy weight. Upon opening his eyes, he discovered that Raja had made him her pillow sometime in the night. She was still in a deep sleep, her breaths long and drawn out.

He eased himself from underneath her and laid her head on the pillow. Apparently, she had on purposely put herself in that position because she instantly awakened when the warmth of his body left her.

"Altaïr, where are you going?" Raja asked groggily, hair tousled about her face. She was resting on her palms, looking up at him from the bed.

"Nowhere."

"Hm. Well, now that we are both awake, let us leave as soon as possible," she told him, standing up to her full height to stretch. Raja then went for her dress in her bag and sought to change. Before the feelings even manifested, the assassin did the same and then they were outside at the stables to mount their horses for the next portion of their journey.

The morning sun was already blazing and beaming down on Raja's face when they started on the road again. She still wondered how Altaïr survived in all the clothes he was wearing. As she drifted off into that thought, Yasminah suddenly went wild, rearing up and neighing loudly. Caught off guard, the woman fell backwards, landing hard on her back.

Instantaneously, Altaïr halted Amin and jumped off his saddle to help her. She gladly accepted it, still feeling the pressure of solid rock digging into her spine as she got to her feet.

Yasminah was still braying and shaking her head to and fro as if she were in pain. Altaïr tried his best to calm the mare, and she eventually calmed down, but dared not let him touch her.

"If she reacts to me in this way, then there's no possibility of her allowing you to ride her," he said to Raja.

"So...I have to walk now?" she peeped, already knowing his answer.

"Get on the saddle," he sighed. Hesitantly, Raja climbed onto Amin's saddle, which was much bigger than Yasminah's. Even the stirrups were lower to accommodate Altaïr's long legs.

After tying the other horse's reign to his saddle, he climbed on behind her, his chest brushing against her back. She felt a little hot under her cloak at their contact and tried to distract herself from it. But feeling his every breaths flow through her hair and onto her scalp was hard to surpass.

His arms brushed against her sides when he went for the reigns, causing her to blush profusely and thankfully he couldn't see her embarrassment.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked right against her ear. Her insides burned with anxiety to get away. She nodded, and he snapped the reigns, sending his steed into a light trot. With every gallop, Altaïr was sent forward into her back and she tried her best not to care every time. The ride to Rome was going to be most unpleasant.

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By the time nightfall had come upon the two, the terrain had changed drastically. The wide open plains of grass had suddenly changed to suburbs with scattered houses that led to their destination. Rome was finally in their sights. Raja allowed an exhale of relief and satisfaction escape her lips. She had progressed so much just three months into her search for her nephew and her hope was beginning to shine brighter and brighter in her heart with every day.

"We finally made it," she whispered, observing the city in the failing light. Its citizens were starting to turn in for the day, rolling away carts of merchandise and food and closing their curtains in the windows.

Altaïr remained silent as always, watching the people with a keen eye. He caught a few glances composed of fear and some of curiosity, but not one of danger or cunning so as to do harm to them. He didn't fear so much for their safety, but it was the people's mouths that needed to remain closed. One word that related to his arrival in Rome, and the Templars would be pillaging every house in the city to find them.

The assassin directed Amin to the nearest inn and dismounted. Raja felt the warmth of Altaïr's body leave her once again. At first, she found it overbearing that he was feverish and causing her back to sweat a little, but soon after they started off, she welcomed the warmth being shared between them even though it was already hot.

"Shouldn't we stay within the city?" she asked, dismounting as well.

"It would be better to enter the city on foot and it would make it more difficult for Templars to track us, should they suspect us of anything." She nodded once and followed him inside.

It was much warmer inside than it was outdoors, which made the odd smells even more exaggerated in the heat. The inn keeper seemed nice enough. His eyes were dark, but twinkled like two stars under his thick, fuzzy brows, and his round belly reminded Raja of Buddha, the god of many Orientals she had met in the past.

"Welcome. Are you looking for a room?" he asked the couple. Altaïr glanced at Raja.

"Yes. Is it alright if we pay from day to day?" she asked.

"Of course. Just sign your names in the lodging list and I'll show you to your room." For some odd reason, Raja grew very impatient with the man, hoping he'd move faster from behind the counter to their sleeping quarters. It seemed as if he knew she was anxious to reach their bedroom, taking his time moving past every door. The hallway seemed to stretch on and on. Raja looked back; his desk looked to be quite a distance away.

"Ah, here we are. I'm sorry your room is so far down this hall. My inn is always this busy. If you ever need anything, let me know with the pull of this string," he instructed, pointing at a reddish brown rope hanging right by the door.

"What does that string do?" Raja asked out of curiosity.

"It's attached to a bell next to my desk. Each room's bell has a distinct pitch so I'll know which room to go to," he explained. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No, that will be all. Thank you, kind sir," she said, bowing slightly.

"Please, call me Uberto. Enjoy your stay." He closed the door behind him and they were alone once again.

"I think I'll bathe before doing anything else," she told Altaïr quietly. There was a lavatory attached to the main room and it appeared to have warm water. Any woman would have taken full advantage of that like she.

She grabbed her nightgown, a drying and washing cloth, and then entered the washroom.

Altaïr, on the other hand, busied himself with a journal that he had decided to start to write all of three years ago following the events with his late Master and the Piece of Eden. All of the events following it—Cyprus, the 'death' of Adha and now being in Italy—were connected in some way. He wrote about every day in detail in hopes of connecting the dots and was always left to wonder if any of it really meant anything to himself.

The Piece of Eden definitely was noteworthy of being a life—changing discovery. It held so much power in such a small sphere, yet it had no control over him. The map it displayed was of extreme importance, and only if he could access it again...

He heard splashes of water from the other room, fully alert and ready to attack, having forgotten his friend was bathing in the other room. Her initial presence in his home three years ago held much importance to him, as well. He hadn't reflected on it before, but Raja brought an additional measure of purpose to his life. After the incident with Adha, he thought he'd never find another love to replace her. But that was the question: did he love Raja the way he loved Adha?

To his surprise, he remembered that moment as if it were yesterday. The first time their lips touched, he knew it was more than what he wanted.

Raja returned moments after he finished writing down his thoughts, her skin glistening and immaculate. Her hair was even curlier and fuller than before, giving her an almost goddess-like appearance.

When she sat on the bed, the air around the assassin smelled of honey—a very calming odor.

"All clean," she peeped, grabbing what looked to be a garment in the making and her needle. "I made sure to save warm water for you to bathe, dear husband," she teased while making a row of stitches in the cloth. He looked over at her, and she looked over at him. After a long moment, he stood up and disappeared into the lavatory with his sleeping garments.

Raja returned to her unfinished clothing, ignoring the rustling of Altaïr's clothing as it hit the ground.

It was odd having her mind turn to such intimate thoughts and wonders. As a child, she found the opposite sex to be quite disgusting and refused to play with the little boys in her village. They were always dirty, messy and rough when it came to playing games. As a teen, she perceived them to be the same way, but three times worse. They liked to watch the women draw water from the well and the adolescent girls run so that their developing chest area would move under their dresses. She found men of all ages to be quite perverted for a long time.

Altaïr was quite different from any other man she'd met in the past. He never seemed to be worried about women, unless it was Adha, who he believed was still dead. Raja was sure when he was not as focused on his duty as an assassin, there were times when he watched women at work and chased girls his age. Even at almost 30 years old, he managed to keep all of those feelings under control.

She turned her train of thought to other things and suddenly grew bored of sewing, so she put her materials away and lay down on her side, catching sight of Altaïr exiting the lavatory fully clothed and shining. His remarkable scent that consisted of blood, sweat and earth seemed to be his own musk especially when he was clean. He lay down on his side of the bed, arms behind his head as he looked up at the ceiling.

Raja turned over to look at him, studying his profile, which she found to be quite attractive.

"How often are you going to stare at me as if you've never seen me before?" he asked, his growling voice now soft, yet still baritone. Sighing, "I don't know. I know I've probably said it before, but you're very handsome. One of the few men I would tell that. I'm afraid to give compliments to men because they either let it go straight to their head, mistake it for flirtatious talk, or their wives are nearby and are quick to savagely claim their husbands. Luckily, you're only arrogant when it comes to your skill," she joked with a chuckle. Altaïr frowned a little and then smiled slightly as he turned over to face her.

Silence filled the air between them and Altaïr moved closer to give her a tender kiss, which she gladly returned. Unlike the last time, that moment felt right when she wrapped her arms around his neck. He guided his sizable hands down her back to her waist, holding her ever closer than before.

In between kisses, "Altaïr...are you sure I'm the one you want?" she whispered. The assassin ignored her words, trailing embraces down her chin and neck. She couldn't help but chuckle at the tickling sensation.

Then she started to panic, unsure if she really wanted to go through with it. Raja started to pull away, refusing to return his love. Bewildered, Altaïr stopped for a moment to look into her eyes.

"Is something wrong?" he asked. The girl was nervous, still biting her bottom lip. He stared at her white teeth.

"No. It's just that...I've never experienced this before, so I don't know what to do," she fessed. With a loving smile she'd never seen before, he reassured her, "We'll go through this for the first time...together," he whispered before silencing her again with his lips, leaving no more room for words that night.

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Everyone knows what happened at the end of this chapter. It may seem a little sloppy, I know, but I wanted to hurry up and make it subtle.

And I'm also sorry for releasing this chapter so late. December 13th was the last time I updated, I believe. I hope I'll be able to get on schedule again soon. Until next time. :)


	31. The Capital City Rome

A/N: Hello, readers and fans! Chapter Thirty-One! :)

**Chapter Thirty-One: The Capital City, Rome**

The next morning, Altaïr awakened feeling a whole new set of emotions he'd never had before. They made him want to smile. They made him want to laugh. He was never a man for emotion, but he wanted to be after being told for so many years that he couldn't show any one any sign of affection.

Raja was still asleep, her light breaths tickling the skin on his chest since they were so close. She was clothed now, perhaps mistaking his white under shirt for her gown.

Her lashes rested against her copper-colored cheeks while her lips were fixed in a muted smile, as if she knew the assassin was watching her in her sleep.

Before she awakened, he went for his journal and opened to a fresh page and began sketching the outlines of her face and hair. In a few minutes, he had already drawn her upper body and was completely finished in a few moments.

He added tulips around the borders of the page, shaded in some areas, and then closed the book firmly and put it back in its place. At the soft thud of the book closing, she fluttered open her eyes and rested on her side, looking up at him.

"Good morning," she told him in a silky voice.

"Good morning," he replied.

"I guess it's time for us to get up," she groaned playfully, moving closer to him to rest her head on his chest. The strong rhythmic thud of his heart relaxed her nerves as they lay there, still and silent.

"We'll have to find your cousin sooner or later," he voiced. Raja looked up at him, serious at first, and then moved in to give him a sweet kiss. He returned it eagerly, one hand combing through her mane of hair while the other supported her back as he laid her down on the bed. Her heavy exhales blew cold air against his cheeks as she allowed her hands to roam over the contours of the muscles on his back.

Suddenly, he broke away from her, "There'll be time for this in the future," he told Raja, letting her go, and getting up quickly from the bed and sliding his dark blue tunic over his head. The horrible scars that marred his skin stared right back at Raja as she sat on the bed. There were so many...

"Raja." She finally snapped out of her trance and changed into her dress.

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Rome was the Italian equivalent of Jerusalem, and Raja had no choice but to gape and awe at the architecture and design within the buildings and on the roadways. From her studies in Benghazi, she learned about the apostles of Jesus Christ and the lands to which they traveled. Paul was a missionary until his death and had walked the same cobbled streets she was at that moment. She could almost see his sandaled feet kicking up dust from the ground.

As in the Holy Land, the climate was muggy with a slight cool breeze. It was a good thing she'd chosen to wear her sleeveless green dress on a day like that, and now it was fixed in her mind to finish that garment she was working on when they started on their journey to Rome.

"Where are we to start?" she asked of her husband. He had been focused on the streets and nothing more the whole time, moving as if he'd lived in the city his whole life.

'If only I carried myself with such confidence,' she sighed. The city was very much alive by noon, the peak of the day. The townsfolk were numerous and very rude, bumping into Raja and stepping on her toes without so much as an 'excuse me'. She was one who was very adamant about people keeping their manners—if they had any, at that.

Altaïr seemed to be having no problems at all navigating through the crowds. He knew what he had to do and therefore did not care about such menial criterion in a populous city like Rome.

They finally reached what appeared to be the heart of Rome, flooded with merchants from all over the world, shouting and displaying their goods. Unlike in the Holy Land, the majority of the crowds were interested in what they had to sell. Being a vendor must have been a very lucrative and promising choice of life in Italy.

There was a garden square with a variety of flowers carefully planted in squares, creating small perimeters of sudden bursts of color, complimenting the pale gray cobblestone on the streets. The fountain in the center was made of white marble with a life-sized statue of the Virgin Mary.

Raja admired the design of it quietly, standing briefly in front of it until she realized her husband was leaving her behind. There was a scattered group of men in front of what looked like a cathedral, talking quietly amongst themselves. She glanced at them, her eyes focusing especially on a man sporting stark white robes.

At first sight, Raja dismissed the man as a priest, but upon looking at him a second time, she knew for sure that he was no man of God.

It was a Templar, rusted helmet in hand and sword girded at the hip. He was speaking to what appeared to be another one of his brethren in not as flamboyant clothing. After a few hours, they had finally found some sign of the Knights' presence.

"Altaïr," she called out to him, trying not to look suspicious, "I see—"

"I am aware," he cut her off. "Go sit down on that bench closest to the flowers." Feeling quite dumb at the moment, she obeyed, walking fluidly and plopping down on the seat across from an elderly man.

'Of course he knew they were Templars; he's been after them for years now! And I, like an idiot, almost gave him up while he was eavesdropping on their conversation.'

A shadow was cast over her and she looked up into the darkness of the assassin's hood. He gave her a look and she got to her feet, following him in whatever direction he led her.

"They spoke nothing of their stronghold, or the child," he informed her. She nodded her head once, her level of hope already slowly diminishing at the fact.

Raja was not sure of their chances of stumbling upon Templars again unless they walked the whole city through. Then again, they would probably pass by hundreds of Templars in everyday garb, living as they had been before the Crusades. And on top of that, their feet could take them right past their fortress and they would never know.

Having to consider all of these factors meant she would have to be serious about finding her cousin and pay utmost attention to every little detail she saw, heard, smelled or touched. Anything in Rome had the possibility of being a clue or a step in the right direction. For the time being, she felt as helpless as a sinking ship on the vast expanses of the sea. She was relying heavily on those men to have crucial information.

"They did speak of a meeting to occur below the Central Cathedral just before sunset," he butted into her thoughts. Raja picked up her skirts to walk alongside him.

"A meeting? Did they say what about?"

"No. I will have to drop in on this conference." Absorbing his words, she silently agreed.

"Very well. I will go with you."

"You cannot," he ordered her. Bewildered, she asked, "Why not?"

"It will be too dangerous. And I must be able to evade them should they discover my presence." At first, she thought he refused to take her along because she was a woman and he did not put faith in her abilities. As he just revealed, Altaïr didn't want her to go because she would only slow him down should he need to escape efficiently. And, as he had probably noted in the past, she was prone to attract trouble.

"I understand," she said solemnly.

Raja didn't want to be seen as useless to the assassin—this was supposed to be her quest, after all. Her father asked her to do one more thing for him, and this was it. After her cousin was safely returned home, she would finally be at peace with him and be able to live life for herself.

When Raja looked up to the sky once again, the sun was then burning orange against the purplish blue horizon. More time had lapsed than she could recount. Altaïr was replacing his hidden blade on his forearm when she decided to watch him prepare for his mission.

As was true with human nature, her mind began to wander to trivial things. Like the fact that she didn't notice how much broader he had become in the three years of her absence, or that everything he did he was swift about it. And when he moved, it was always one swift, fluid motion, transposing the fights he encountered into a blithe dance.

All of the amazing abilities he had perplexed her like no other, and she started to wonder if he was even fully human. But if not human, then what was he?

Discerning that she was thinking too hard, Raja shook the outlandish thoughts away, catching the attention of her watchful companion.

"What troubles you?" he asked coolly. Those light brown eyes were shiftless, calm as he awaited her reply. "Oh, it's nothing. My mind wandered elsewhere," she assured him, drawing circles on the bed sheet, hoping that he'd finally turn his attention elsewhere.

After a few moments, she felt his hefty gaze leave her and the weight in her stomach alleviated soon after. The assassin stood up to leave, his back to her.

"I know that you will return with no harm done," she felt she had to voice. Under the belief that he had gone already as silent as the wind, Raja sat up only to see that he had returned to her, his large, calloused fingers now gently stroking the skin of her cheeks.

All of this affection he was showing towards Raja was still entirely new to her, having been used to quick, cold remarks and nights devoid of any warmth that could possibly be felt.

He drew close, their lips touching for but a few moments, breaths becoming one for a split second, and then he was off.

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Altaïr made sure to keep track of where the Templar had returned to: a cathedral with a tall perimeter gate as white as the building and four guards posted at each entrance. This he had noted when he walked the rooftops surrounding the compound. But he had to be cautious since there were archers in their posts in the surrounding towers, half alert for any disturbances or aberrant happenings.

This part of Rome was not as congested as the southern part of the city, perhaps due to the merchants from overseas mainly settling there to vend their overpriced goods. The less people there were around when he began his pursuit, the less conspicuous he would be trailing behind the man when he left again.

This strange new land also called for his skill of adaptability to varying circumstances such as this, being that there weren't any scholars or monks walking around in fours to camouflage him in plain sight.

All he needed was a cluster of people and...

Suddenly, the opportunity came as if on schedule to play in his favor.

A group of about seven to ten people passed by the southern entrance and he got to his feet from off the bench and melted into it. With his head cast down, no one suspected him of anything and the Templar continued to lead the assassin towards his hidden destination.

It was all too easy so far, until the troupe broke off, heading in the opposite direction of the target. Grateful for his skill handling extreme shifts in occasion, Altaïr followed them a little ways then headed off into an abandoned alley and began climbing the vine taking root in the house's brick mold. He had noticed long ago that the farther away he went from the cathedrals and banks, the less amount of security he could see with his extra sense of character.

He did not know when he had developed the ability, nor if it was normal to be able to tell who was an enemy, a target or an ally before even having met the person. And yet stranger than that was the fact that they all displayed one of four colors: blue, white, yellow, or red, each meaning something to either aid or hinder his quests.

The target was still on the move, weaving between passersby and excusing himself multiple times.

They were now in a part of Rome that Altaïr had not yet come to discover. It was quieter, much more tranquil than the bustle of what he assumed was the downtown area of the city. He now had to move carefully so as to not give himself away, his footsteps now as lithe as the flap of an owl's wing.

Finally, he entered a villa hidden behind a row of apartments that was covered in foliage and fancifully cut windows under strict watch of two solid-looking men carrying spears.

Unlike the Syrian guards in his homeland, these he had not yet studied and would therefore have to use caution until he grew comfortable with their style and speed of their attacks, should it ever come down to that.

The middle of the villa was open aired like the late scholar Jubair Al Hakim's daily meeting place, the Madrasah. This would prove to be an easy conversation to listen in on completely anonymous.

"It's about time you arrived, Arturo. We were beginning to think we'd be here all night," one of the attendants complained.

"I'm sorry; my wife wanted me to have supper before I left." A deriding chuckle echoed in the hall before they began.

"What report do you have from the Holy Land, Mauro?" He unfolded a piece of paper in his hand and splayed it on the table for all to see, including the assassin on the roof.

"This is everything I gathered from my sources in Acre, Jerusalem and Damascus. They say that the Assassins from Masyaf killed off every one of our brothers that remained, leaving us in Europe as the last of the group."

"You have forgotten about our hold in Egypt, right along the Nile Delta. Unless they have learned about that outpost, too."

"No, they have not. We haven't seen any assassin activity there yet. They catch on very fast, so it will only be a matter of time before they are aware of the fortress there," the one named Mauro tried to assure them.

One of the older Templars chipped in, "You fools. I'm sure they know where we _all_ are. This is not a game of hide and seek; rather, a game of chess. They have made their moves and so far they've managed to grab most of our pieces, while we've only been successful at the elementary level. The time is now for us to make a powerful move against them." The others started to murmur quietly.

"What would you have in mind?" He paused in his footsteps a moment.

"We attack at them at the heart of their brotherhood, as they have done to us." An eerie silence filled the room.

"And how are we to do that when we are outnumbered? They'll beat us 20 to 1."

"Which is why we divert their forces."

"And how do you plan on doing that, Thomas?"

"The plan is not yet fully planned out, so you will have to exercise patience until it is finalized." They all hummed in agreement. "What of Antonio's boy, Ajram?" one asked.

"Since he has died, rightful possession goes to the boy's mother, who is living in Benghazi for the time being."

"She's very much alive?" another posed the question. "Yes. Talil did very well to hide her involvement with Antonio, otherwise Ajram would not exist today. But then again, if he wasn't born three years ago, we would not have a protegé of the Templar legacy. We will not last forever, my brothers. He will live on in our place and our Brotherhood will flourish once again." Mauro got to his feet as well, "This all sounds very promising, but how will we keep him safe until he is old enough to hold his own against an assassin?"

"We will have him taken to England to live under a new alias until he's sixteen years of age, and then send him to Acre to rebuild our fortress and recruit young Templar Knights."

"When is this to happen?" the only one wearing a hood asked.

"Very soon. Now, we must return to our proper places for the night; a gathering this large makes it easy for Assassins to kill us all at once." Chairs scarping noisily against the floor, they exited the villa one by one and scattered into the city.

Altaïr had more than enough information to get them started on finding this child named Ajram.

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Raja had been sewing ever since Altaïr had left, and the outline of a new robe was already near completion. Her heart went into making it from the start, and she had not taken a break since.

The last row of stitching was in place when the assassin came through the door of their room and sat down on the edge of the bed, removing his hood.

"I was right," she smiled. "What did you discover?"

"The Templars have your relative somewhere in this city. They did not reveal his exact location, but they plan on sending him to England until he's sixteen." She put down her needle, "England? Why?" There was a slight strain in her voice when she spoke.

"They plan to use him to further their Knighthood after they've died off." Speechless, she stared hard at the ground for a moment.

"They'd corrupt an innocent little boy for their own selfish interests?" her rhetorical question echoed.

"He may very well be under their influence already."

"He cannot!" Raja flashed, her eyes wide. "He is only three; there's still time. We must find him."

"There is not much that you can do now. We must be patient and gather more information." He had his boots off now and was changing into his midnight blue tunic.

Every time she saw those scars, they made her heart ache with every thud until she looked away. He couldn't have suffered all of those at once, but he must have felt some measure of pain when each one was acquired.

To be rid of the guilt, "I made something for you, Altaïr." Something like that of a questioning hum emerged from his throat and he turned around to face her.

With a smile, she got off the bed, holding the folded dark blue garb in her arms.

"If this is a joke, I would very much prefer to go to bed," he told her. A little hurt, she replied quietly, "It's not a joke. Look!" she exclaimed, unfolding it to reveal its full length to him.

The assassin immediately recognized it as a new robe. The design on the borders of the arm holes were intricate and looked very time-consuming and the tails of the sleeveless coat mirrored that of the white robe. There was still a hood attached to it, stitched in silver like the rest of the hems of the garment.

"Do you like it?" she asked, nearing closer to him, waiting for his reply with a hopeful smile. Her eyes glowed like a pair of emeralds in the earth.

"Yes. It was...very thoughtful of you," he finally voiced. It was beginning to get easier for him to show sentiment towards others, especially Raja.

"Good," she sighed, falling into his arms. Hesitant at first, he returned it, engulfing her entire upper body in his embrace. "If you didn't, I would have made it into a dress and made you wear it in public."

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Alright! I know this chapter was long overdue and I'm soooo sorry for the delay! I had major writer's block like a sinus headache. Once I popped that membrane of block-ness, the ideas came flowing from my figurative nose! Sounds gross, I know. :P

As I said on my profile, the next few chapters will be about half the length they used to be until it's steadily updated again.

What did everyone think of this chapter? I don't know if it was consistent enough, so I don't mind if you guys criticize me in your reviews. ^_^


	32. Doppleganger

Disclaimer: I don't own Altaïr, and am not affiliated with UbiSoft, as much as I wish I was. T_T Enjoy.

Chapter Thirty-Two: Doppleganger

Altaïr held Raja in his arms, still digesting her words.

"You'd _force_ me to wear a dress?" he asked, doubt in his every word. She pulled away just enough to look up into his honey-colored eyes.

"Yes," she drew out slowly with a smile. "And make you walk around Rome in it. All day." He laid her down on her back, the tips of their noses touching.

"And exactly how do you plan on getting a dress on me?" he played along in a gentle voice only she knew. She gazed up at the ceiling for a moment, thinking of what to say in response.

"Ummm...I'll think of something to get you in it."

"That's where your problem lies: you don't have a plan." Raja gasped quietly, a little perturbed at how easily he had read her. He let her up and she turned her back to him, pouting in a playful manner. The assassin saw through her facade and reached out for her, yet she scooted farther away.

Moving swiftly, his arm snaked around her waist and pulled her into his chest, the tip of his chin resting on top of her head, but only for a moment as his lips brushed against her ear. His hands had not moved from the front of her body, the tips of his fingers firmly pressed on her stomach.

"You only make me want you more when you resist," he whispered, planting warm kisses on her now bare shoulder. She shuddered, not from the embarrassment but the sheer pleasure she was feeling at the moment. He had never been so gentle; even the first time he bedded her didn't feel as tender. Did they copulate, or was it simply relations between two lustful individuals put in one room? They had been put in the same situation in times past, but they never acted on it because the mental attraction was never really there. Something was different that night in Ciampino*; there _had_ to be.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, ceasing in his titillating. She bit her bottom lip. They had never really discussed what went on between them in the past since he never recalled anything as an issue that needed his attention, and she simply let everything go since they were just fine, or at least she assumed they were.

"I wonder if that night in Ciampino really meant anything." He stayed silent.

"What do you mean?" She was sure he already knew what was bothering her.

"We slept together, but was it because we loved each other? Or was it because we wanted to act on desires we always had for each other?" she questioned. Altaïr refrained from speaking, perhaps thinking about it, or simply not replying to make her drop the subject altogether. She was nervous now, wishing she had just let him coax her back into that intimate moment that they were having.

When she felt she wasn't getting the response she desired, "N-never mind. Forget I even brought it up," she muttered quietly. Raja tried to release herself from his grip, but he didn't let go. Her body was adhered to his like adhesive.

"Either way, you enjoyed it. If you didn't want to, you would have resisted me as you had been doing in the past. We are husband and wife; we give each other our due," he finally replied. "Are you saying that you regret what occurred?" The blush in her cheeks burned hot.

"No, not at all." Gently, he held her chin in his hand, turned her head in his direction, and brought her lips to his.

"Good." Altaïr laid her down after blowing out the candle, and left it at that.

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Long after Altaïr had fallen asleep, Raja lay wide awake, unable to join him in her rest. She did not want to move, and cause him to wake up; the cool air that was coming out of his nostrils and flowing gently on her cheek came at slow, steady intervals, indicating he was in a deep sleep. But as an assassin, even heavy slumber could be disturbed by the slightest of movements or mutest sounds, like that of a floorboard creaking in the dead of the night.

She had become a victim of insomnia for the past two days, and she found it hard to function as well as Altaïr did on three and four hours of sleep a night. It had not yet showed up in her features, which would have given Altaïr reason to worry, and she did not want him to worry. She was already feeling guilty about turning over her father's request to come to Rome to him.

It was so unfair to her, having to sit and wait until her husband needed her, which would more and likely be never. It was too dangerous for her to venture out with him, yet it was absolutely tedious waiting around in an old, dusty room waiting for his definite return. When had she become this...? There wasn't even a word for it.

Obeying Altaïr's every word, sewing, and knitting like a worried housewife. She vowed to herself long ago that she would be different from all other women, and by being deflowered, married, and even simply kissing Altaïr was breaking that promise. Self-pity cut at her soul like a knife, and she tried her best to fight it off without moving a single inch. His hand was fixed securely on her waist, and his other arm was underneath her head.

If what he said in Messina was true, then she had nothing to worry about. If he really did not care about Adha anymore, if he did wish to move on with her, his wife, if he really did love her, then she could trust his words and calm her tempestuous heart. Altaïr would not lie to her. He would not give her reason to doubt anything he did. He would not disappoint her.

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The next morning, as always, Altaïr woke up just a little while after dawn, before Raja did. She had turned over in her sleep, and was now facing him, resting her head on his chest.

He turned his gaze away from her face, down towards the shiny scar tissue on her forearm. He remembered the story she told him of the Templars and their methods of punishment. When he guided his hands down her bare back, his fingertips touched the slight welts on her skin. His palms would brush over the scars on her outer thighs. The flesh of his lips felt the leftover pain in her every embrace. They were merciless, unrelenting men to beat a woman so for something she had no control over. He had assumed she was a spy, hell bent on listening to his instincts when she told him of Tauraj. If only he had listened to her, if only he had killed every guard standing there, if only he'd followed...

It was useless beating himself up over something in the past, factors he couldn't control. The pressing matter was finding the child, and so far their chances were slim to none, even though he very meticulous about gathering information on his assignment. But wait, this was not his assignment; it was Raja's. Her father asked_ her_ to do this one last thing for her. He was under no obligation to search for a child he knew nothing about. Raja didn't even know what he looked like; he could have very well been any infant cradled in any woman's arms as she walked down the street. Talil left no description of the boy—wait!

He had not yet looked at either of the letters sent to her by her father and her friend living in Dion; he would have to get them soon and examine them himself. Rome was a very large city indeed, but so were Jerusalem and Damascus. No task was too daunting for him.

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The noon sun blazed high in the sky, shining brightly through Raja's eyelids as she roused from deep sleep. Her gown stuck to her body like a second skin. The sheet she was under was dank, so she cast it away from her body and sat up, rubbing the sleep away from the corner of her eyes.

Getting up to stretch, Raja headed to the lavatory to freshen up. She was impressed with the advanced plumbing system like that of her Egyptian ancestors that brought her cold water for her face and warm water for her body. While she bathed, she wondered why she had slept so long. It was unlike her to sleep for more than eight hours a night. People only rested that long when they were dying, or extremely exhausted. She had had a bout of insomnia, but not long enough to make her body feel that it needed to recharge for so long. Her mind turned elsewhere.

Altaïr was gone again, perhaps finding out more about Ajram than she was. The anxiety was killing her. The longer she waited around for him day after day, the farther away her task slipped away, like an anchorless boat drifting out to sea. When he returned, she'd batter him for answers as to what he had been doing. He never stayed out past dusk, so she would have a little time to use doing menial things, such as finish up the stitches on her own garment in the works. She began to wonder if he decided to wear it from then on. When they returned to Masyaf to stay, she'd make an even better uniform.

After draining out the water, she grabbed her towel and wrapped it around her chest, and then took another to dry her hair. A soft wind started to blow through the window, drying the water on her skin and cooling her back as she sat down on the edge of the bed. In her bag was an oil that performed many wonders. It restored lost hair, soothed burns and caused the skin to glisten. Living on Crete for a few years had its benefits.

Just as she finished oiling up, the assassin came through the door, catching her off guard as she disrobed. His eyes lingered on her form briefly—he had seen her bare before. He wasn't wearing her robes. Raja tried not to notice.

"I wasn't expecting you until later," she voiced, sliding into her under garments casually. He sat with his back to her.

"I can see that. There is a high alert on the city for a killer. It's too risky to go venturing in the city right now." Raja assumed the alleged murderer was him.

"They are looking for you?"

"No. Apparently, there are Assassins in Rome, killing popes in churches." She didn't know whether to be excited or scared. True, they were Assassins, like Altaïr, in fighting for the same cause, or at least she thought so. Their beliefs could have been mixed with another, or they could be bandits bearing the name to steer attention away from their true identities.

"I'm assuming they wear white as well, which is why you returned so soon?"

"Yes. I will have to wait until the alert is gone." Raja slipped on her sleeveless green dress.

"Well..." she dragged out, circling the bed to stand in front of him, "The blue robes I made would make you inconspicuous. That way, you could continue while the day is brightest and return even sooner than nightfall," she reasoned. He looked up at her long and hard, into her pleading hazel eyes. Altaïr didn't show any signs of acquiescing.

"Please wear it, Altaïr. It's light, comfortable, and it protects you from the sun," she said in a sing-song voice. The assassin placed either hand on his knees.

"Where is it?" he finally agreed. Eagerly, she snatched it from the windowsill and handed it to him, folded neatly until he laid it on the bed. Her eyes watched as he disrobed his upper half quickly, and then got into the darker robes just as fast. It actually looked better with his gray trousers. His muscled arms were bare, with the exception of his gauntlets. The hood cast a familiar shadow over his face and the tails of the garment flowed behind him like tail feathers. Raja couldn't help but smile, admiring her handiwork.

"Perfect!" she breathed, falling into his arms and holding him tight. He gave her back two taps, then gingerly pushed her away, focused on the search he was conducting outside those four walls. She hesitated to speak up, and he stood there, his intense stare awaiting her voice.

"I wish to go with you, Altaïr," she fessed. He turned his body fully in her direction, and she couldn't overcome the sudden shyness in her mind.

"It's not safe for you."

"I know, but I was aware of that when my father asked me to do this for him. I was aware it would be dangerous and that sometimes—or all of the time—my life would be in danger. Even when I was away from you for three years, I knew how unsafe it was to live alone. I was prepared then and I'm prepared now. I know I'm a woman and physically weaker than men, but my father taught me how to use a sword long ago. I was eleven when the lessons started and I haven't picked up a sword since I was twenty-three, but—" Altaïr gently grabbed hold of her shoulders to cease her rambling. She looked up, thoroughly embarrassed.

"If it bothers you that much about endangering yourself, then you are free to come. Although I am your husband, you cannot expect me to save you from everything that presents a danger to you in Rome," he warned.

"It'd be unrealistic to take that for granted," she added, mumbling as she looked down, only to have him lift up her chin with his finger.

"I'm glad you realized that without me having to tell you," he said in that warm tone she loved before planting a tender kiss on her lips. He did not linger on it and they were both down the hall of the hotel and out the door moments later.

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Northern Rome was just as hot as it was the day before, but the people were out in fuller force and the merchants were even more persistent in making a sale. It seemed the hotter it became, the more excited the city grew. Foot traffic was heavy, which meant Raja's toes would get stepped on more often than usual, and she'd be more tempted to curse out loud rather than in her mind.

"The only place Rome is dangerous for is the people who keep stepping on my feet without saying excuse me," she grumbled to Altaïr, who smirked under his hood. He usually didn't care for complainers, but he saw the humor in her words. Surprisingly, he felt more at ease with Raja at his side rather than waiting at the hotel. Unprecedented harm could come upon her and she'd have no means to defend herself, and they were not one flesh, so he wouldn't sense danger twelve miles away, and he'd return to her lifeless corpse, instead of her living, breathing—the way he wanted to see her every day of his life. With Raja in the city with him, he could keep an eye on her and possibly see her display the training her father gave her, even though that was not his purpose in allowing her to come.

Instead of the guards being passive about their job, their eyes were alert, hands at their hilts as they walked about, searching every face for the Assassin running about. Even the people were on edge, creating an atmosphere of tension that Altaïr felt all too easily. They were like mice, nervously going about their business until some loud noise or sudden presence caused them to scatter and panic, creating chaos and mass hysteria at any given moment. The last thing that he wanted to worry about was finding Raja after humans rampaged through the streets like terrified elephants.

The rest of the world couldn't see, but the assassin had been using his gift, separating enemies from friends. So far, there were no targets or informants in the sea of people.

Suddenly, a figure glowing white jumped down from a nearby guard tower, followed by a body falling through the air and hit the ground. The guard didn't get back up. When the crowd finally realized what was happening, women started screaming and panic spread through the people like a wildfire. Before it became too hectic, Raja drew close to Altaïr in hopes of holding his hand just when he reached out for hers to lead the way in pursuing the supposed Assassin into the emptier part of the city.

'Wait...we're going towards the fake Assassin rather than away. This will not be pretty...' Raja concluded, being led along. Whoever they were pursuing was swift and agile, but not too fast for Altaïr, who would have caught the person if he weren't dragging her behind him. Raja tried to wriggle her hand free. He started to slow down, looking back at her questioningly.

"Go! I'll catch up," she told him. He immediately let go and gave chase at full speed, leaving her in the dust. Raja was quick on her feet, but not as fast as him. They rounded a corner, and she followed, only to come to a grinding halt, breathing hard.

Altaïr had the 'Assassin' cornered and they were both reaching for their swords.

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I haven't ended in a cliffhanger in a long time since there weren't too many actionny chapters from 25 to about 31. I hope people liked this chapter and it wasn't too late. This chapter came flowing from me in just 2 hours again! I hope this spurt continues for a long time. :P

As always, please do review and tell me your personal thoughts about this chapter. I would very gladly return a thoughtful message to my reviewers when they do. :) Nereza's Serenade will be updated before this Sunday, I believe.

Also: I have some new artwork on my deviantart page: EternalShadow629 dot deviantart dot com. Thanks again!

-ShadowsEdge


	33. No Place Like Home

Disclaimer: I don't own Altaïr, and am not affiliated with UbiSoft, as much as I wish I was. T_T Enjoy.

Chapter Thirty-Three: No Place Like Home

Raja's heart had dropped into her stomach at seeing Altaïr and his twin in white glaring at each other, swords drawn, the streets eerily quiet. Neither broke their concentration to acknowledge her arrival; if they did, one or the other would have stuck without warning. The same dread she had felt when Altaïr fought Captain Flannigan washed over her again, and she had the right mind to stop the quarrel before it started.

"Do not interfere this time, Raja," Altaïr told her before she could even blink the dust out of her eyes. Darn him. The man opposite of him hadn't said a word yet, and just stood there, waiting.

Raja did not even bother to protest; she stood still, anticipating who would strike first. The assassin she knew was not patient when she first met him, but she noticed over the years that he had changed; therefore, he could wait all day for the impostor to make a move.

"I killed that guard on purpose to get your attention, brother," the stranger finally spoke. His accent was thick as he tried to formulate his words in English. How had he known that they were not from Italy? At mention of the affiliation he gave Altaïr, Raja concluded that he was none other than an Assassin himself, her first speculation when Altaïr had made mention of it.

"Why not simply send a message to me?" he asked.

"We did not know which inn to send it to; there are so many surrounding Rome. Any Assassin would recognize his brother by his robes or his skill."

"Why risk your ability to roam the streets freely just to get my attention?"

"I hadn't planned on making such a spectacle of myself, but seeing that I did, I let it go. Plans don't always fall through completely. Now, can you please withdraw your sword so that we can return to the Sanctuary?" Raja turned her attention from the man to her husband, who was still glaring at his opponent like a bird of prey.

"Sheath _your_ blade first," Altaïr replied. He obeyed, and Altaïr followed suit. With the tension in the air dispersed, Raja felt her heart return to its normal rhythm as she waited for the assassin to approach them.

Now that he was closer, she was able to study his features carefully. He was tall, but not as tall as her husband, not as broad, but still muscular, tanned skin, dark eyes and hair, and a beard that should have been trimmed well over three days ago. There were hairy men in the castle at Masyaf, but they took some time out of their day to make sure that they were always presentable. Altaïr seemed to take the most care in his appearance, aside from the hair on his head becoming matted from being crushed under a hood all day. Nothing a little water and soap—and Raja's attention—couldn't handle.

"Do you have a name, or should I just refer to you as Masyaf?" he lightly joked, though there was no smile on his hardened face. Altaïr's face remained stoic as always, but his eyes were very much alive, sizing up this man who claimed to be an Assassin.

"Altaïr. This is my wife, Raja." He hadn't even hesitated to let her introduce herself; she held her tongue angrily. It wasn't until her name was mentioned that the Italian suddenly grew friendly and warm towards her, taking her hand in his. It was covered in scars.

"It is my pleasure to meet you, Signora Raja." He kissed her hand; she refrained from rolling her eyes. "I am Titanio Bonaventura, Master Assassin of Roma. Now that introductions are over, we shouldn't waste any time out in the open with a bounty on my head, no?" As they headed deeper into the city, "What about our things, Altaïr?" Raja blurted out louder than necessary. He glanced down at her with a slight disapproving look, perhaps irritated and hot—and hungry.

"Don't worry about them; I will have a Novice sent out for them. There's no need for you to be charged to stay in an inn when there's a place that's practically home in the heart of the city."

"Nothing is like Masyaf," Raja mumbled, remembering Hifah, Little Malik, and her friends that worked in the kitchen. How long had it been since she'd seen them? 6 months? A year? The time had flown by at a pace so swift she couldn't track, so she stopped caring, just living every day and facing their challenges until it was all one big rushing locomotive that slowed down significantly when they arrived in Italy.

Altaïr had heard her comment, a muted smirk on his lips. She couldn't help but smile as well, taking his hand in hers to feel its feverish warmth she had grown accustomed to. He gave her hand a slight squeeze and then let it go; there was no room for intimacy at the moment. Titanio paid them no attention as he led them through the maze of apartments and three-level houses. Raja already knew that she would never remember how to get to the Sanctuary by herself.

"How is it that you recall so easily how to get there?" she wondered aloud. He spared a glance over his shoulder.

"I've lived here my whole life. And there are signs all around you; look at the latticework of the balconies. Do you not recognize them?" She strained her eyes to look closer; they were in the shape of the Assassin symbol. Feeling a little better about getting lost, "I see. The Assassins own these buildings?"

"No; they are merely subtle keys of a map. If you ever find yourself lost, follow the keys of the city, and you'll know if you are treading in enemy territory or not." This was like the Holy Land, yet not like the Holy Land. There were definite Templar outposts in the land between major cities and headquarters even within those, but Assassins and Templars never shared a city by simply drawing lines between districts. This was more of a gang strategy, but more organized, like chess pieces on the board; one side makes their move and the other makes theirs until they finally met, and one side had to win while the other had to lose. Raja did not like it at all.

Finally, they arrived at the Sanctuary; it was a sight Raja could only conjure in her dreams. She hadn't noticed that they stepped foot outside the city walls to get there. There were green trees everywhere, hiding the palatial building from full view. There was an extravagant fountain carved into an enlarged Assassin symbol in the middle with a knoll surrounding it and a long marble walkway shaded by an awning with fancy designs. The tall pillars supporting the monument-like abode were made of limestone with gold bases and the doors were made of ivory. Birds sang all around them and the air was heavily scented with the perfume of ripe fruit growing in the trees. This was a piece of Eden hidden by the trees. Raja tried to hide her awe, but failed miserably as her jaw hung open slightly.

"This place looks fit for the likes of King Solomon," she drew out, still trying to digest the scene unveiled before her.

"It's pompous and arrogant; simple architecture would have sufficed," Altaïr said simply. By the way he said it, Raja knew he was slightly envious, but impressed, nonetheless.

"They must have spent all of their resources building it," she noted.

"As a matter of fact, they almost did. It was created during the fall of Rome as a world power and then renovated in 1023 by our forefathers. Both times were not good to splurge money on palaces that we Assassins don't need. The Templars already know what we look like," Titanio added. The trio headed inside, where the layout of the fortress was not that different from that of Masyaf's castle. The first floor was airier, having an expansive library with books visibly in Latin, Greek, and English. The stairs had a blood red runner all the way to the top, which went off into two directions, south and north, each having at least 4 or 5 rooms and at the end had another stair case where another level of chambers for Assassins to rest.

"Is there no end to this place?" Raja asked, catching the attention of some of the other male Assassins, who seemed to be amazed at the sight of a woman in the fortress. A few stopped in their tracks, staring her down in the same way Altaïr did, perhaps making note of her appearance so as not to be alarmed when she came casually strolling through. Their stares were cold, not welcoming or warm, and their sharp double takes cut like glass. Titanio noticed Raja was becoming quite uncomfortable, seeing that she was almost cowering behind her husband.

"You'll have to forgive my brothers," he said loud enough for all in the room to hear. "They're not used to women being in the fortress. If any, they are in the nursery tending to the newborns, which is a separate compound a little ways from here." A foul taste rose up from her stomach to her tongue.

'A separate compound for men and women? In Masyaf, women were in the kitchens and some even stayed in the castle—I did! This is much different from home...'

Her stomach actually started to grumble, and both men looked to her as if she had grown a second head. She smiled nervously.

"Sorry. I haven't eaten since this morning."

"It's fine; it's almost dinner time. But Altaïr, you must come with me now so that my master can meet you." When both men walked away, Raja suddenly wanted to cling to her husband or call out to him to make him stay with her. The protective bubble that had been created by Altaïr and Titanio's presence was gone, destroyed by the needle-like eyes staring at her from all corners of the room. For fear of being struck, she did not move for a brief moment, and then disappeared in the maze of books, unaware that one watchful pair of eyes continued to look on like a rapacious predator.

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The hall was grand, much more lavish than that of what was once Al Mualim's. Instead of a simple wooden table decorated with scattered objects of interest, there was a long polished desk made of ivory with sweet-scented candles and tons of maps. He and Malik would have gotten along well.

The Master had his back to them, looking out at the green hills through his stained glass windows. The black robes, the tall, straight stance brought back years of memories of reporting to the same authority whom Altaïr had likened to a father at one point. A chill shot down his spine, recalling the anger and feelings of being deceived by that same man, the one who he had trusted with his life, suddenly changed into a lying, power-hungry snake who had used him. He had to keep telling himself that these two Masters were not one in the same to keep from driving his hidden blade into his shriveled black heart.

"Master, I have returned with the Assassin from Masyaf," Titanio announced, bowing. His senior turned, a bright smile on his face, a complete contrast to what Altaïr had expected. A black trimmed beard instead of puffy and white, and two sky blue eyes instead of one dead black and the other milky white.

"We finally meet, Altaïr Ibn La'Ahad, the Grand Master of Masyaf." He bowed. "I have heard of how you defeated your Master and traitor to our cause, Al Mualim, from my students."

"I am not the Grand Master; simply the leader of my brothers," he humbly corrected.

"My mistake. I received a letter from Malik Al-Sayf concerning your presence here in Italy. A boy, a Templar child, has been requested by his mother in Libya? How is it that you came across such an unusual assignment?"

"Yes. What you say is true. A boy, not even 3 years old, was taken from his mother by his Templar father, who is dead, leaving the child in the custody of his brothers. My wife is the daughter of Talil Ai'in, the boy's uncle, who requested that she come to Italy to retrieve him."

"Hm. And this has nothing to do with the taking of Cyprus?"

"No. This is entirely separate from that matter." The Master paced a little and then stopped.

"Very well. The Templars' presence is most definitely alive here, but little influence comes from them. They are crippled by the loss in Cyprus and the Holy Land, as well. There is a possibility that one more devastating blow like the last two will eradicate them entirely." Altaïr found little truth in his words; the threat would always be there as long as men were imperfect.

"We need not discuss this any longer before dinner. Titanio will show you to your room and then we will talk further when our stomachs are not talking louder than our mouths." He gave Titanio a slight nod and he bowed before leading Altaïr further up and into the Sanctuary. Neither had bothered to worry about Raja, who was still all alone, a sheep amongst the wolves.

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One book struck Raja's interest, printed in Arabic for a change, and she pulled it off the dusty shelf. Dust filled the air as she blew the cover clean before thumbing through its old, crusty pages. It was an account of a Master Assassin from Egypt, apparently a _she_. She was baffled; Altaïr nor any other Assassin in Masyaf never mentioned a female Assassin having existed in times past. Perhaps they did not know of her themselves. She read on.

_It has been eight months since Cleopatra was killed by my poison. Life returned to the streets soon after her much anticipated death; her tyrannical reign is over. The Apple, its influence is no longer apparent for stretches of land. I have it now, tucked away safely from curious eyes, weak minds. My brothers do not know I have i—they are under the belief that it was lost to the sea because that is what I told them. A woman's voice just as powerful as the device men have fought over for centuries, maybe even since the beginning of time. How long will this struggle continue? I grow tired of bloodshed, although it is necessary to maintain peace._

_I have studied the device's pictures, the future it gave me. Screams still plague my dreams. It has happened before, this cataclysm of fire. Gods and men, both destroyed by Ra's fury. But some survived, lived on, intermarried, the truths of Greek mythology now fable, the lies of humanity now truth. _

_The Apple not only has foretold disaster to unveil, but advances we can use against them. The metal with which to create impenetrable armor, is scarce and hard to find. It will not be made in my lifetime. However, the blade—ah yes, it will be their Achille's heel in times ahead._

_I have been told that I can no longer function as an Assassin, at least as long as I am with child, which will put me out of the field for the next six months. It's odd, knowing that there is another human being growing inside of me. I feel its heart beat match mine. My husband is growing tired of my mood swings and odd cravings for tortoise soup. I know he is just as excited as I am to be a parent for the first time. It will be birthed in Assassin blood, be raised by Assassin blood, and die with Assassin blood flowing through its veins, just as I will be and just as its father._

Before Raja could read further into the Assassin's life, a book hitting the floor with a loud thud cause her to drop her own, losing her place in the process.

When she stood erect, a solid, yet soft, wall brushed against her backside. She turned quickly, confronting an Assassin in white. He was smiling at her, arms folded across his broad chest. She smiled back in an effort to be polite before excusing herself, but he did not seem to want to move.

"You're the first woman to be allowed in here," he told her in a gentle, innocent voice. It surprised her, considering he looked like he would kill her at any moment and think nothing of it.

"I did not know that. I am honored," she replied, bowing. "If you'll excuse me." He did not let her by. With the right amount of strength, he backed her against the bookshelf on the wall. Raja dropped her book, too petrified to react harshly. His smoky green eyes finally revealed his true intentions of isolating her; she did not like being aware of the bestial nature of men.

"P-please..." she begged weakly, uncomfortable with his hand on her waist. She closed her eyes, too ashamed to watch as he fondled her body. Suddenly, his touch grew violent, his fingers raking against the flesh of her stomach through the material of her dress. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes, but feared he would intensify the pain if he knew it hurt already to some extent.

"If you cause one of my brothers to stumble because of your seductive allure, I will know, and I _will_ make sure your punishment is in full. It's bad enough our brother from Masyaf allowed a woman to walk alongside him as if you are his equal," he hissed, venomous eyes destroying what courage she had left.

"Why would you say such a thing? I'm married," she corrected him. He seemed a little surprised at the fact, his glare not carrying as much weight.

"Married women are just as manipulative as a woman without a husband. Keep your place, and we will meet in calmer instances." With that being said, he let her go, and disappeared just as Altaïr turned the corner at the other end.

At the sight of him, she wanted to run and collapse in his arms after the terrifying experience she'd had, yet her feet remained rooted to the ground. He approached her, noting the old book lying open on the floor, her wide, doe-like eyes and frazzled hair. If it hadn't been for her dress, he would have noticed the marks the Assassin might have left on her sides. Raja did not want to cause disunity among the Brotherhood over her, so she kept silent.

"Back so soon?" she asked, trying to mask the tremble in her voice as she picked up the book. Her waist throbbed with pain as she bent over and stood erect.

"We are to be seated for dinner," he told her.

"Oh. Alright, then." She replaced the book in its space and followed him outside into what looked like a sun chamber with four long tables and benches on either side of each one. A few men were already sitting down, talking quietly amongst themselves until they saw her, the eyesore.

Raja froze up a moment, then continued, but careful not to walk alongside Altaïr under the watchful eye of the Assassin who had confronted her earlier. He continued to gaze after her until Altaïr gave him a look and he casually turned his attention elsewhere.

'Thank you, Altaïr.'

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Dinner was eaten in silence as always, and Raja found it very uncomfortable to have Altaïr watch her put the fork to her mouth every time as if waiting to correct her for doing something wrong. With Hifah countries away and the cooking staff being entirely male—and unfriendly—Raja had no one to talk to, calling for her to stand up and excuse herself, making her an easy target for observation. Thankfully, her husband was possessive, so he followed, very soon taking the lead. Once again, the light hum of conversation ceased immediately until they returned to the main corridor.

Raja looked to the assassin; he said nothing. She followed him up the stairs in silence. The Master was sitting at his desk, examining the map that had come from Acre to fill in anything that had changed or had been removed in Rome.

"This map is 2 centuries old. That was the last time an Assassin from Masyaf had set foot in Italy. There is much to be effaced, even more to be recorded. I will be sure to update this map as soon as possible and return it to you promptly," he said as he examined the calf skin. He finally looked up, noticing a woman standing behind Altaïr.

"You must be Altaïr's wife. He did not tell me that you were extremely beautiful." She blushed, feeling a little more at ease by his docile demeanor.

"Thank you."

"Altaïr has told me that you desire to find your cousin at the request of your father, Talil Ai'in. The boy's father is a Templar, so it will not be easy to find him. I don't know how Templars display themselves in the Holy Land, but here, they are hidden in plain sight, their fortresses hidden and impenetrable, yet they are not many. Their forces are sparsely dispersed, giving us the advantage in numbers."

"Do you know where he is?" she asked, desperate to know the answer.

"Unfortunately, no. One of my men noticed a child being brought in with their shipments about a year ago. Before he could find out where they were headed, he was shot with an arrow and he died from his wound. We've been trying to find at least one of their strongholds since." Her hopes of returning home soon with success were dashed to pieces.

"What is your next step?" Altaïr threw in.

"We will discuss that tomorrow morning. For now, go, and rest; I'm sure you are tired. Your things have not yet arrived, so accommodations have been made for the night. May peace be upon you both," he bowed.

"You as well, brother," Altaïr returned, and Raja as well before heading up the stairs to their room.

It was dead silent and dark in the hallways with the exception of the candles burning at each door. Their sleeping quarters were on the third floor all the way at the end, the only room available. However, it did not disappoint as Raja had expected.

The bed was on a mahogany canopy bed frame with heavy blankets and the lavatory was more than acceptable—a washing basin, running water, towels. It was as if the room was made for two.

As Altaïr closed the door, she stepped outside to the balcony. To her surprise, there was no railing, just a semi-circular landing made of blue marble, perhaps made intentionally to gaze out at the scenery before her. She took the opportunity to sit down and relax her frazzled nerves.

Rome was beautiful at night. Stars dotted the black-blue sky, the trees blew gently in the summer wind, and the hills seemed to go on and on like an endless sea against the pale moonlight. An artist would have loved to have been there to capture it on a canvas.

"Warm night," a familiar voice said from behind her.

"Yes, it is," she replied quietly, ducking her head against the wind. Altaïr sat down next to her, cozily putting his arm around her shoulders. The protective aura he had had returned, and she embraced it, resting her head on his chest, her palm right next to his calm, beating heart.

The incident with the green-eyed Assassin—should she tell him about it? It would have been better to tell him herself rather than let him find out from someone else or by accident, and she'd lose his trust. But it was so isolated; no one would have had to know but the immediate party. He didn't make any threats against Altaïr; he just scared her, and hurt her a little. He hadn't even drawn blood.

"Is something on your mind?" he asked. The question read her like a book, and she wanted to say yes, yet she held her tongue and brought up something else bothering her.

"I miss our sword lessons. I had gotten sloppy over the years, and the training you gave me was exactly what I needed."

"You needed it?"

"Yes," she peeped.

"Why?" She started to say something, yet nonsense came tumbling from her mouth and she heard Altaïr chuckle for the first time. Her face red, "You ask me a question you already know the answer to. You always do this to make me look like a fool." He laughed again, this time in the form of a snort.

"I do not intend to insult you. I prefer not to assume. Yet this time, I do not know what you are thinking." She was taken aback, staring into his golden brown eyes that she got lost in every time they caught her stare.

"My goodness, this is a first," she teased. Rolling his eyes, "This moment of accomplishment will be short-lived," he sighed.

"Fine. I knew it would be dangerous in Italy, so I didn't want to have to rely on you all the time for protection. Before I became a wife, I was capable of so much. I've defended myself from drunkards, your twin, and a slew of Templars. I didn't care what people thought of me. I didn't depend on others 3 years ago as much as I do today. Now, I'm worthless and weak."

"Your worth is not in your fighting ability, nor in your resilience against gossip. Character defines a person, not their shortcomings." His words warmed her spirits more than she anticipated. Raja brought his face to hers, their lips touching for but a few moments.

"No one says such things but you," she told him before getting up and returning to the inside to lie down for the night.

After one long look at the moon, he followed silently.

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A few hours later, Altaïr and Raja were well into their sleep. Nothing but heavy breaths from their exhaustion dragged through the air in the dead of the night.

She turned over, sighing lightly in her sleep as she rested her head on his chest. Her body was tired, but her mind was eager, alert.

Exhaling slightly louder than before, she sat up only to be tackled to the bed face first.

"Altaïr, what are you—" she managed to get out before she noticed the long thin piece of metal glistening against the moonlight just outside their window.  
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O_O Another cliffie! Oooh! It doesn't make much sense which was why I had planned on not putting it in here. It'd be a good scene to be drawn instead but I stink at drawing guys. :PI think this chapter didn't make much sense. I was just typing whatever I felt like, so go ahead and butcher me; I need it for being so lackadaisical.

Historical Refs:

King Solomon: The third king of Israel, writer of 2 books of the Bible. Wisest man next to Jesus Christ, and also very rich, but only by God's blessing. He had a luxurious house and temple dedicated to Yahweh, the Hebrew God, or Jehovah in English, in Jerusalem that was later destroyed in 586 B.C.E then rebuilt sometime later and then destroyed again. The Key Zionist Illuminati actually wants to rebuild it. Funny thing is, he was the most wise man of his time, but he went against God because of his foreign wives. Ironic, isn't it?

Until next time, you know what to do! Please? :) I need constructive criticism!


	34. Brethren by Creed, Enemy by Blood

Disclaimer: I don't own Altaïr, and am not affiliated with UbiSoft, as much as I wish I was. T_T Enjoy.

Chapter Thirty-Four: Brethren by Creed, Enemy by Blood

Raja's heart sank into her feet when she saw the dark figure outside their window approach at an inhuman speed, the glaring object now up high in the air. She was in too much of a shock to react in time and would have been impaled to the bed if Altaïr hadn't effortlessly tossed her to the floor with one arm and deflected the blade with another.

Her back stung a little, but that was nothing compared to what could have happened to her. Straining to assess the situation, Raja tried to distinguish the bodies moving back and forth across the glossy wood floor. The feet were light, but the sword clashes were not softened one bit. Every time the blades hit, it made a hair-raising shrill that made the hair on her neck stand on end.

'How could they see what they're doing in the dark?' she wondered, groping around carefully for the flint and candle. She wanted to know who decided to attack them.

Her hand brushed against something hard and solid, but not the flint rock. Sighing in irritation, she continued in her blind examination of her surroundings. Her fingertips brushed against something heavy, square and stony. Yes! She'd found it.

Just as she struck the flint to cause sparks to fly, she caught a glimpse of the man's face. His eyes were green, maniacal, venomous.. She gasped quietly, but loud enough to get his attention. Before the candle blew out, she saw his booted feet making his way towards her.

Like a helpless blind man, she crawled through the dark as fast as she could. His steps grew louder and faster, causing her to breathe hard and heavy in anticipation of cold steel spiking her to the floor.

Before he had a firm grip on her ankle, the assassin was suddenly yanked backwards, grunting with an element of surprise. Raja stood up, hearing a loud, sickening crack resonate through the air followed by a violent crash to the floor that caused the floorboards to jump out of place. And suddenly, the room was dead silent with the exception of Raja's heavy breaths as she held her shaking frame. She was afraid to speak up, to call out Altaïr's name, only to have the green-eyed assassin come after her again.

"A-Altaïr?" No response. Hands outstretched and shaking, she took a step forward, and then another until she felt something rock hard against her palms. She took in a sharp exhale. It was warm.

"Altaïr," she sighed, falling into his arms, wrapping her own around his waist. That strong, unfailing heart beat never failed to soothe her in times of distress.

'How could I think that it was he who fell?' she asked herself. He rested his chin on the top of her head, and they stayed that way for quite some time. It wasn't until the room finally exploded in light that they slowly broke apart.

There in the doorway stood Titanio, who was surveying the scene with a skeptical glare.

"What happened?" He crouched next to his brother, who was still dazed from the punch Altaïr had given him. There was blood dribbling from his nostrils and onto his white robes.

'Serves him right,'she thought smugly.

"Why don't you ask him?" Altaïr asked back. He was still riled up, ready for anything else to happen. His hands were still securely fixed on her waist, as if he had to claim her. Groaning, the defeated assassin sat up, throwing the couple a dirty look.

"They are not supposed to sleep together, even if they are married."

"So you come to our room and try to kill us?" Raja snapped.

"Altaïr, control your wife," Titanio requested. He looked to his fellow assassin again. "You tried to kill them?" His deadly eyes moved from Altaïr to Raja, slowly, deliberately isolating her.

"Just her. She tried to tempt me earlier today," he accused bitterly. Raja was so baffled that she could not formulate a sentence to refute his claim. She merely stood there, scowling at him. His eyes seemed to mock her. All three men had their sights on her. The heated glower she felt from her husband burned through the temple of her skull.

"I refuse to believe that. I've known this woman for a number of years," Altaïr stated firmly.

"Of course. You know her more than all of us. Raja, is this true?" Titanio questioned.

"Of course not. I love Altaïr. And I'd never say otherwise." He scoffed, getting to his feet, and spitting a mix of blood and saliva out the window.

"She's lying. Love doesn't mean anything to a woman as beautiful as she. Just like nymphs of Greek mythology, she's all about pleasure and herself." She lunged at him, impatient and fed up with his repeated attempts to soil her name.

"You bastard! You lie!" she growled. Altaïr held her back, managing to keep her from raking his eyes out with her fingers.

"You see? A wild, rapacious jungle woman!" At that, Altaïr let Raja go. Her fist connected with his face with a sickening crunch. He stumbled backwards, and Altaïr pressed forward. Titanio put a armspan's length distance between them.

"Calm down, all of you!" he ordered, the fatigue apparent in his strained voice. "Merodach, go back to your room. We will discuss this in the morning with the Master." Merodach—with a hand over his swelling eye—obeyed, disappearing out the door.

"Raja, I'm sorry, but you must stay in the women's chambers until the Master makes up his mind as to what he's going to do. I will take you there myself." She looked to Altaïr. He nodded slightly, and she went for her slippers, quietly following him out the door. Before they got too far away, she made sure to turn around and run back into the room.

Altaïr was trying to make sense of the bed when he straightened up to see his wife walk towards him. She stood right in his face, and gave him a firm kiss good night. Without a word, she grabbed her clothes, turned on her heels, and followed Titanio down the hall.

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The awkward silence that filled the air between the men's quarter's and the women's made Raja think that Titanio had taken his side in this issue. He had never looked back at her to make sure that she was still following him.

The women's sleeping house was elegant, but not as lavish as the main structure. The building was large, but it looked as if it only had one room, which, to Raja's dismay, it did. In the soft moonlight, she saw several dozen bodies in bunks rising and falling slowly in the fashion of deep sleep. No one was snoring, and no one was up having late night conversation.

Titanio made sure to draw his line at the door.

"There are a few extra beds to choose from. I'm sorry for disturbing your sleep," he whispered before heading back down the grassy path to his own room.

Raja was hesitant to enter, looking all around her at the dark world. A gentle, cool breeze blew up her backside, ushering her in the doorway. The door closed quietly, and she picked up the remaining candle to find a bed for her aching body.

Thankfully, there was one right next to the door for her to jump into. And yes, the sheets were cold, and so was the pillow. If it weren't for her new roommates, Raja would have let out a loud sigh of satisfaction.

She blew out the candle, and instantly fell asleep.

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The next morning, Raja woke up to a thin, porcelain face that scared her half to death. She cowered beneath her blanket, unfamiliar with the female face.

"Mi dispiace! I didn't mean to scare you!" she apologized, her dark blue eyes innocent and docile. Raja came from under her blanket.

"It's alright. It's not every day that I wake up to see a woman's face. May I help you?" she asked.

"I am Sofia. And you must be the wife of the assassin from Masyaf. Rajanah, yes?"

"Correct. It's nice to meet you, Sofia. Where are the other women?" She noticed the other beds were vacant and made up already.

"Oh, we rise early to do the laundry and tend to the plants. The Master likes healthy flowers. I stayed behind to make sure you remembered to go to the Master as soon as you awakened." Oh! Raja had almost forgotten; her sleep was so fulfilling and heavy, she had forgotten about the judgment that was to pass over the events that unfolded the night before.

The jolted woman got to her feet, not caring that the observant woman watched her quickly change clothes. Since Sofia hadn't brought it up, Raja assumed that breakfast was over. She'd have to wait until lunch to eat.

"You dress quickly. Let's not keep them waiting." The two women walked out into the muggy late morning, looking around at the silent women who seemed to range across all shades of skin and hair color. Raja wondered if she would have time to ask them all their country of birth. Not any one of them bothered to look up and express interest, perhaps because they were there to work, not socialize. After what had happened last night, it was safe to believe that there was a strict watch over their daily activities.

"Sofia, were you born here?" she asked, walking alongside her.

"If you mean Italy, then yes. I was born in Asti, farther up north. My family and I—we moved here when I was ten, and I've lived in this branch of the Assassins since I was seventeen. Most of us came here because the Master offered us protection, food, and shelter in exchange for submission to the Assassin order. It seemed to be practical enough—we've never experienced anything worth leaving for."

"I noticed all of the women here are different from one another. Do you know where they're from?" Raja was just dying to know.

"The only problem that I don't voice is that they choose ten women from each of seven countries: Libya, Arabia, England, Greece, Mongolia, Ethiopia, and Italy. My guess is that the Master wants his men to have a variety to choose from when they marry. True, these women are saved from poverty, prostitution and prison, but I wish they would help more."

"Well, we can't save the world, or every woman in the situations you described, but it's comforting to know the Master cares for such women." Their conversation subtly ended when they entered the main hall of the compound. The scholars in white were passing slowly through the aisles of the library, and the actual assassins were standing guard at the stairs. If Raja stood on her toes, she would have been able to see Altaïr, Titanio, Merodach, and the Master standing there, waiting quietly. She didn't like to keep people waiting.

"This is where we part," Sofia told her with a gentle smile. "I am not allowed to eavesdrop on your conversation; they fear that I will spread gossip and rumors amongst the women." Raja concluded that it made sense.

"Then I will see you later?" Raja asked. She nodded, and returned to the bright outdoors.

Sighing, she swallowed down her anxiety and headed up the stairs. The air around her was hot, causing her to sweat profusely. Her scalp was itchy, and her stomach was churning like a gathering storm. With each step, her feet grew heavier as the four men's eyes focused on her.

The Master seemed delighted to see her.

"I assume you rested well, aside from last night's incident?" he asked her. She looked to Merodach, who looked as if someone painted his eye with a deep shade of purple. His nose was slightly angled to the left and red.

"Yes. Thank you," she bowed. Altaïr didn't acknowledge her; he merely stared ahead as if he wanted to hurry and get this over with. Did he believe what Merodach had said?

"I will recount what Titanio has told me, and any of the three of you are welcome to add any details. He claims he heard commotion coming from above his room, and decided to investigate when he heard Merodach fall to the floor. Upon reaching Altaïr's room, he saw Merodach on the floor, and Altair and Raja in each other's arms. Altair claims Merodach came into his room through the window and tried to kill both Raja and himself. He owns up to the fact that he hit Merodach twice and doesn't regret his actions. Is that all?" Raja immediately spoke up.

"No. When I tried to light up the room, I saw Merodach come directly towards me, intent on killing me and not Altaïr. Of course, my husband stopped him, and then Titanio came in."

"And Merodach tells me that after Titanio came, you tried to attack him."

"Did he forget to mention the fact that he accused me of being a seductress and a crazy 'jungle woman', whatever that is supposed to imply," she added.

"Merodach, Titanio, and Altaïr failed to mention _that_." He glanced at them with contempt. Merodach seemed to waver under his heated glare. "Is this true?" he asked them.

"Yes," Titanio replied. "Mi dispiace, Master." The Master exhaled, scratching his beard.

"I believe I've heard enough to make my decision. Raja, you may choose to either stay with Altaïr, or remain with the women." Altaïr finally turned to face her; Merodach had been staring at her the entire time, and Titanio was observing the ground. The decision was entirely up to her.

"I think...I will stay with the women. This is not Masyaf, so I will respect the rules of the householder." She looked to her husband's face; it was blank, but his golden brown eyes seemed to be asking her something. Before she could even take back her decision because of that look he gave her, she turned away.

"Very well. Titanio, thank you for preventing this situation from getting worse. As for you, Merodach...We will speak of this in private. The three of you may go." It wasn't as difficult as Raja thought it would be. There were no arguments, no fistfights. If only confrontations could be resolved that way every time.

With the exception of the nausea causing her stomach to churn, she felt better knowing the Master was aware Merodach was out to hurt her. Now she could move around the stronghold with a certain sense of security.

Instead of seeking out Sofia to further their conversation, she thought she should be alone for a while, just to think things through. The area behind the sleeping chambers was pretty vacant, but sectioned off by a short wall. There was a tree brimming with pears just on the other side.

Raja looked around to see if anyone was watching before helping herself up and over the wall, surveying the tree for any desirable pears. A few were too soft and rotting at the core, and the ones hanging on the low branches were swarming with bees. There were a few up top that looked pretty decent, so she reached out for them, standing on her tip toes. Her nails scraped the bottom of one, and she thought she would tear in two until a longer arm grabbed the piece of fruit for her. She immediately recognized the gloved hand.

"Altaïr, thank you." After wiping it off with her skirt, she bit into it, tasting its tender skin and sweet juices.

"I've never had a pear so flavorful," she remarked. He was silent still.

As she bent down to bury the core, "I know you're not one for small talk, but is something wrong, Altaïr?" she asked.

"You made the right choice in deciding to stay with the women."

"I knew it would give Merodach a reason to harass me further."

"Further?" he echoed. Raja inhaled sharply and, then let it go when she realized what she had done. "What else has he done to you?"

"When I was in the library, he cornered me." She watched as his jaws clenched tight. This was not going to end well.

"Go on," he demanded in a harsh tone.

"He let me go after I had explained that I was married. He said that it didn't matter. And then he left." His eyes burned holes into hers for a moment, and then he looked away, sighing heavily. Already, she knew he was irritated. He would never understand why she tried to hide it from him; she was alone, defenseless, and scared to death of a man capable of as much as her husband.

"Please, don't be upset; I was going to tell you. I didn't want a conflict to arise over me." She touched his arm, and he brushed her off of him.

"I'm not upset. When someone intends to harm you, my wife, it's my responsibility to make sure that that doesn't happen. If you withhold information from me, then I cannot protect you. There's no point in us being married if you don't trust me to do my job." His words stung like hot needles pricking her skin.

"I was scared you'd do something brash. Malik said you were an impulsive, overconfident man, and I've seen you act that way before. We were married to disguise our true purpose for being here, but it quickly grew into something more than I ever thought it could become. If what we shared not too long ago and on more than one occasion was just a part of your responsibility, then I will relieve you of that obligation." Raja took off her ring, set it on the wall, and lifted herself over it, never hesitating to look back.

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All were present for the probation sentence on Merodach's use of his sword, knives, and hidden blade just a few days after Raja cast aside her wedding band. Titanio was the one to lock all of his armaments away in a small wooden chest.

Altaïr remembered the day all too well when he too was stripped of his rank. It was...difficult for a proud man such as himself to part with his life's work and effort.

Raja merely looked on until the Master dismissed them, and never locked eyes with the man she once called her husband. Titanio tried to reason with her on one occasion, but never tried again.

_"Raja, you can't just end your marriage that way."_

_"I didn't end it; it never existed." She was tapping her foot on the ground hard and fast._

_"He didn't mean that your relationship with him wasn't important."_

_"I saw his face; it told me otherwise. He's not one for jokes."_

_"But think about it: would he have bedded you more than once if it wasn't required for him to do so?" A vivid image of them together appeared in her head; she shook it away violently._

_"He's a man; even an intimate act such as that done in duty would have no ill effect on a man as callous as he."_

_"I think otherwise, Raja. He may say things that hurt you, but he loves you."_

_"If he truly loved me, then he would refrain from hurting me, physically or emotionally. I picked the wrong Assassin to fall for."_

Titanio wanted to speak to Altaïr about it, but they'd never really spoken more than two words to each other since their arrival to The Sanctuary. He didn't seem to be the kind of Assassin that would lay his whole life story on the table to a complete stranger, fellow Assassin or not. He wondered if the Master knew about the situation.

When everyone else returned to their previous occupations, Titanio approached the Master.

"Master, if I may?" he requested. His superior was still facing the window.

"Is it about Raja and Altaïr?" The assassin's joints locked in place.

"Y-you knew already?" he asked, trying to mask his nervousness.

"Of course. Raja informed me the day it happened."

"What's the wisest course of action?"

"Let them be. She's young, hurting, and confused. It won't escalate into anything serious. The most I'd expect is a request for divorce." Titanio couldn't believe how calm he was being about this.

"Divorce? Altaïr hasn't committed adultery, or at least I haven't heard. And he certainly isn't dead. What would be her reason? Emotional repression?" The Master chuckled.

"Titanio, can't you see? She loves him. I don't think she could live without him."

"I'm aware of that, but what will stop her from breaking his heart, if he has one?"

"From what I've heard, Altaïr can hold his own against twelve Templars at once. If she does hurt his feelings, it won't be to an extent he can't handle."

"How can you be so sure, Master?"

"I was young and married once. These types of fights strengthen the bond, not break it. You will see, Titanio."

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Three weeks passed after Altaïr and Raja's quarrel, yet neither approached the other about the rocky situation. Raja was rarely seen near the Assassin's chambers since she spent most of her time with Sofia and the other women. She seemed to fit right in, like with Hifah and Jinan back home in Masyaf. Her days were filled with planting flowers, making clothes, and cooking delicious Italian meals every single day, and she had seemed to have pushed Altaïr out of her mind. Now that she was not around him all the time, it was actually easier to function, and be herself once again. She missed that part of herself, and never really knew it was gone until the 'Old Raja' actually came back. To add to her measure of peace, Merodach never again harassed her, nor was his presence felt by anyone since his probation sentencing.

When the city-wide alert was over after observed efforts of the guards, she was free to go looking for Ajram in the city, although he wouldn't be out in the open with the other children. It was difficult to push through the crowds and demand information from men without an ominous man in a white hood looming behind her. Titanio was helpful in getting past well-guarded areas, but she was still vulnerable to attack when he had other tasks to accomplish. The novices they sent with her were to be of some assistance, but they were nowhere near as threatening-looking as Titanio or Altaïr. His presence on those days would have been greatly appreciated. Maybe that was his only true purpose to her.

The time came for Raja to venture into the city alone yet another week after she'd be going into Rome alone.

One of their female informants said that she saw a toddler with dark brown hair and deep blue eyes with a Templar by the cathedral on the southwestern tip of the city, near Neptune's Memorial. She had been observing that branch of the Templars for several weeks before the first spotting, and noted that they never had a child with them before that day. The Templar accompanying him wore a distinct ring made of ivory with a blood red cross on it.

When Raja had heard the news, she was drinking water until she heard the word 'boy', and then whatever was in her mouth was in Sofia's hair. She didn't know how many times she had apologized before grabbing her veil and heading for the stables.

Upon summoning Yasminah, she happened to look over a few stables down, and noticed that Altaïr was there, brushing the coat of Amin until it shone in the afternoon light. She looked down so that their eyes did not have the chance to meet. Her heart was beating loudly in her head as she contemplated what to do. It had been a month since they had last spoken, or even looked each other in the face. If he had approached, she wouldn't have known what to do, perhaps try to run away to avoid talking about her impulsive decision to drop their marriage.

Quickly, she got into her saddle. His eyes were on her; she could feel it.

"Hyah!" She snapped the reigns and galloped out into the warm countryside and did not halt to a trot until they reached the gate of the city where she dismounted and paid the stable hand a few coins.

Raja went on her way inside, melting in with the small crowd until they were past the guards, and then she broke off alone, wasting no time for meandering around the merchants who threw foreign goods in her face, asking her to buy.

She began to think it was odd that the Master did not at least send a gray-hooded Novice with her for a measure of protection. Altaïr was definitely out of the question, and Titanio wanted to spend time with Sofia, who she did not know was his wife until she caught them kissing in the garden one night. She still couldn't get the image out of her head.

Just to be on the safe side, she did request a knife and holder to strap on her shoulder, hidden from view by her veil, and a short sword that the guards did not seem to fret over; they must have mistook it for a trend in women's fashion since it rested horizontally against her back like a supporter for extra material from her scarf to keep it from dragging in the dirt.

So far, all was well as she got nearer and nearer to her destination. The sun was starting to set, and the sky was already turning its familiar night time purple in the east. The church should not have been as well guarded as opposed to an actual Templar stronghold, so it would be easier for her to slip in without causing alarm.

True to trend, the cathedral had a single guard at its entrance, and he was very friendly, to her surprise. The guards she ran into at mosques in Banghazi and Damascus were cold and unfriendly, shoving her and other people back into the street without apologizing. She wished she had a sword then to teach them manners, but that would have given rise to a needless conflict.

"Why do you, a Muslim, need to enter a Catholic church?" the guard asked before letting her by. He was middle aged with a scraggly beard and a sword on his hip that was in need of being replaced.

"I'm not Muslim, signor. I am a devout Catholic and in need of comfort; my husband has passed away," she lied. His eyes showed their sympathy as he let her by.

"Mi dispiace, signora. You may go inside. But do not go into the altar room to the left; it's already being used." She bowed slightly, thanking him for having been so gullible and open. The occupied chamber was probably where her cousin was being held, which meant there would be a few Templars there to protect him, as well. Raja grimaced at the thought of having to fight more than one, but she couldn't expect it to be simple. This was an integral piece of the future of the Templars that she was going after, so they would do anything to keep him safe, by all means necessary, but they did not know she would do the same.

Other than her sandals hitting the dusty pavement, there was a low hum of voices hovering in the air and down the open halls, like an eerie, monotonous chorus of sorrow. There were at least a dozen private chambers to peek into. The room all the way at the end was covered by two large guards with sabers in their hilts, and they didn't show the least bit sign of fatigue in their bodies. She would have to listen as best she could from the room next to it. It got louder as she made her way to the doorway to her left, and the voices became clearer as she eavesdropped on their conversation.

"This is Ajram, our hope for a future brotherhood. We've been keeping him hidden from the Assassins so that they don't plan on killing him, or worse yet, turn him into an Assassin. We will send him away to England until he is sixteen, after he passes the Knighting Trials. Then he will return to the Holy Land to gather more young Templars to crush those cowards at Masyaf. This is what Robert De Sable would have wanted: to bring the Assassins to their knees just as they have done to us. You've done well to avoid suspicion among their ranks, Rudolpho." She heard a low, menacing chuckle that sent chills up her spine.

"It was simple, really. Killing my brother, burning his body, and assuming his identity was too easy. No one would notice the difference between Merodach and I." Raja managed to stifle her surprise, her eyes wide as she sat on the bench. "But..." His voice broke her line of thought, and she listened as he continued.

"But what?"

"A woman named Raja and her husband—or should I say ex-husband—came all the way from Masyaf to find Ajram. He is an Assassin, and she allied herself with them, fully aware that she was betraying her father's cause—our cause."

"Talil was not our true brother; he failed to do what was necessary, and therefore he died a traitor, as will his daughter if she gets in our way. If he were still alive today, he'd be in charge of the navigational archives, and he'd more and likely give them to his daughter. And this Assassin—they are no longer married?" Raja furrowed her brows. 'Merodach' knew nothing about that.

"She removed her ring, and they haven't spoken since. That was about a month ago. I knew she was a harlot in disguise," he spat.

"Harlot?" she exploded, then covered her mouth with her veil.

"Who is that in there? Show yourself!" the traitor demanded.

Exhaling slowly, she got to her feet and stood in between the guards as both men got to their feet to hide the small child in their midst. He resembled her aunt in so many ways.

"Please explain why you felt free to intrude upon our conversation," the gray-haired man demanded. She tried to disguise her voice with an Italian accent.

"Mi dispiace. Being a firm believer in the Virgin Mary, I'd never expect to hear such a word in the house of God." The impostor was wearing his Templar uniform, proud and blatant. Perhaps that was why he had disappeared from the compound.

His green eyes met hers, and she looked away; she had just lost her husband, and there was no need to go find another.

"We are the ones who should apologize. A woman as dignified as you shouldn't have your ears violated by such talk. Rudolpho, you must learn to use more tact when speaking." He looked to her in time to see her eyes smirk, and he had a moment of recognition.

"Wait—you're no devout Catholic—you're that Assassin whore!" he exclaimed for all to hear. The priest hurried into the room to shush them, and she took the opportunity to run.

"After her!" The two burly men sprang into action, led by Rudolpho.

Raja turned the corner, sharply returning to the simple courtyard where she was halted for questioning. The guard who had let her in was blocking the doorway, so she shoulder charged him and stumbled to her knees, scraping her palms as she got back up to her feet and began running as fast as she could.

'Why is it that I always end up running from someone, no matter where I am?'she wondered as she searched for somewhere to hide. The streets were plenty busy, but at the sound of Templars barking orders at them to clear the dirt roads, the people obeyed and looked on as Raja desperately ran for her life. This was a time when she _really_ needed Altaïr.

The wide avenue was coming to an end, and fortunate for her, there was a high stack of barrels sitting on the last building to her left.

She pulled them down as best she could, and one by one, they fell into the street, creating chaos as the Templars failed to notice what she had done. Rudolpho tripped over the barrels first, landing hard on his jaw, followed by his two stewards. Their swords escaped their hands as they crashed into the dirt.

Raja would have stayed to enjoy the moment, but she had to keep going and lose their trail.

Now deep in the city, it would be easier for her to lose them—and herself, in effect, since she did not know Rome that well. There was a canal to her right and a bridge connecting the opposing sides; from what she could see, there was an A-shaped symbol carved into the stone, so she was just a few yards away from friendly territory.

All was well until she felt a hand grab her hair and pull her into a body made of chain mail.

"Well, well, I see you get around, _Raja_," Rudolpho hissed. The hate in his voice was as hot as his breath on her face. His comrades were behind him, observing quietly as he dragged her in between two tall, lonely buildings.

"Leave us. I can handle this one." They obeyed, disappearing down the street they had come from.

He pinned her to the wall by her neck, applying just enough force to keep her conscious, but confined to his gaze. That ominous, threatening stare filled her every joint and marrow with fear as he removed her veil from her face.

"You almost had me fooled, but your eyes revealed too much emotion in the church, as they did the night that I invaded your room. An observant man like me would remember that about a woman like you."

"And what kind of woman am I? An animal?" He chuckled.

"Heavens, no. I used the word 'jungle' because I can see the carnal instinct in your eyes. It tempts husbands into adultery, and lonely men into sin. That is something that cannot be controlled by any man, but I can eradicate it completely," he growled, tracing the outline of her breast with his hand.

Repulsed by his words alone, she kicked him in the groin hard enough to make him let go.

"Ah, you wench!" he groaned. He was defenseless and crippled, but that would only be so for a moment. She had to act, so she went for her dagger and lunged at him full force, expecting to end his life then and there.

As if he had eyes on the back of his head, he turned around just in time to grab her wrist, and then shove her into the nearest wall, causing her to hit her head against the stones. Her vision exploded into a million dots as her hearing faded away.

Dazed, she crumpled to the floor in pain, trying to refocus her sights on the man picking her up to her feet, only to deliver a stiff, hard blow to her abdomen to incapacitate her.

Saliva dripped from her mouth as she tried to gasp for air. Her lungs felt like they were going to wither up and die like the leaves just before winter. The harder she tried to breathe, the more anguish she endured.

With no one else around, her feeble cries for help went unheard as he picked her up, carrying her to the canal.

"I know you planned on telling the Master about me, but he'll never know with you sleeping at the bottom of the Mediterranean Sea." His last few words faded out, for she was slipping into unconsciousness as he tossed her over the edge and into the murky waters of the canal.

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Sorry it took so long for me to update. This must be the second time Raja has had a water incident, yes? It would seem illogical of the Master to send her out without anyone to safeguard her, but there's a reason behind it, and it will be discussed in the following chapter.

Seems like there's always drama in Raja's life. The argument between her and Altaïr was a little spontaneous, but bear with me; there's a reason for all the chaos in this story.

Until next time! Thank you for your reviews and criticism; it helps more than you think. :)


	35. Resurfacing

Disclaimer: I don't own Altaïr, and am not affiliated with UbiSoft, as much as I wish I was. T_T Enjoy.

Chapter Thirty-Five: Resurfacing

Raja's head bobbed above the water a few times, and then went under again. Her lungs were half full with water, and her mind was only halfway there.

She had been drifting for two hours downstream, and no one had noticed an unconscious woman floating in the canal.

Truth be told, she thought she was going to die. The sea was pulling her in, slowly, but surely calling her name until she finally reached its bowels, where she would sleep eternally.

There were voices, but they could have come from anywhere—her mind, the outside world.

Something disrupted the flow of her form, and she knew that someone had finally found her.

A pair of strong hands grabbed her by her arms, and heaved her out of the water. She was aware, but unresponsive to the voice in her ears. It soon became a vibration against the hairs on her skin, and then she passed out yet again.

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When she awakened, there were faces all around her, eerily calm in the dim candlelight. Finally, her clothes were dry and she could breathe again.

She felt pressure on either of her ankles, and realized her legs were bent and spread wide open. From what she could see, someone was hunched over in front of her. The person finally stood up straight, revealing the fact that it was a woman, perhaps in her forties wearing all white.

Was she in heaven? Was this an angel?

"...it's hard to tell..."

"...no one would guess..." The voices faded in and out. Raja couldn't understand what they were talking about. She tried to sit up, but if felt as if an anvil were on her chest.

The woman had moved to her bedside quickly, and urged her to lie back down. Her hands were warm. And soft.

As if her touch had a sleeping elixir, Raja succumbed to sleep once again.

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It was the dead of the night when Raja was abruptly jolted from her slumber. No one had shaken her, nor called her name. It was a sharp pain that had crawled up her spine and then plummeted down into her intestines, causing her to gasp in shock and pain. The sensation went away for a moment, and then ripped through her abdomen again.

"Aah!" she grunted, sitting up as she clenched her stomach. Pressure began to settle at the base of her spine, and just when she thought it couldn't get any worse, it released, but not without consequence.

She screamed at the top of her lungs, clenching the pillow underneath her head as her back arched up in the air.

When she settled back on the bed, something wet touched her backside. Her fingertips dabbed in it and she held it up to the fading light in the room.

It was much too dark to be urine. Was it blood? Suddenly, she felt a mass leave her body, and the pain was gone.

Finally, the woman from earlier that day answered her anguished cries, and somehow Raja knew she was there to take care of whatever was causing her trouble.

"It's finally come."

Exactly_ what_ had come?

"Gianna!" A younger woman came rushing into the room. Her face glowed in the failing candlelight; her features were impossible to distinguish.

"Go get some cloths; she's bleeding too much."

The girl named Gianna hurried away. The older woman fixed her legs in the same position that she had when Raja first awakened in the bed.

"So much blood..." she whispered. Raja was about to ask what was happening until the girl returned with a bundle of white material, staring hard at what lay in front of her until her superior took the cloths from her and scooped up something small into her arms. She was cradling it, like a…

It couldn't be.

"Do you want to see it?" Her mind was already made up.

"No. Get rid of it." She gave the stillborn to the girl and she disappeared down the hall. Her twinkling eyes settled on her face.

"Did you know you were six weeks pregnant?"

"No."

"You didn't feel dizzy, no vomiting, mood swings?"

"No." She came close to hold Raja's hand in her own. Their eyes met.

"Were you raped?" Altaïr would never do such a thing.

"No. It was consensual." She suddenly felt sick to her stomach, and threw up on the floor, coughing violently afterward. The woman was quick to clean it up with the extra material and toss it into a nearby basket.

Her beady black eyes studied her face for a moment; disbelief was written all over her face.

"I am—" She blinked once, slowly and deliberately. "I _was_ married." She still didn't seem convinced as she grabbed the bloody sheets and the basket.

Once again, her eyes looked over her form in denial and worry.

"I will leave you to rest until tomorrow morning."

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The image of her leaving the white gold ring on the stone wall in the garden kept playing over and over again in his head.

The way she looked at him. He could see the hurt, the distrust, the _pain_ in her eyes before she ran away from him. It had been a month already since they had spoken last, and he had grown accustomed to their brief, yet fulfilling conversations.

Little by little, she was coaxing him out of his antisocial shell, and now that process was over. He hadn't seen her in a day since she left for Rome. She should have returned by then. Why hadn't the Master at least sent a Novice with her, if not a Master Assassin? He knew the dangers of wandering a vast, distinctly divided city full of indistinguishable allies—and enemies.

He would go look for her in the morning, although she did not wish to see or speak to him. It was ridiculous to let such a relationship die over a few heated words.

It was rare for him to miss anyone, but not knowing of her whereabouts was like losing her to the Templars all over again.

He vowed to never let her go.

Ever.

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The following sunrise, Raja had discovered that her loss of blood resulted in her being bedridden for a few days, so Gianna was left to tend to her every need. The older woman that perhaps had saved her life was named Diana.

They never spoke a word to each other, and she was dying to know where she was being held, so she asked on the third day of her recuperation.

"Where am I?" Her voice cracked from lack of use. Gianna handed her a bowl of thick soup with carrots and celery.

"You're in a Sanctuary. We take in battered and homeless women." Her accent was difficult to pinpoint, and now that it was daytime, she could see the young girl's features clearly.

"Where are you from, Gianna?" She was definitely not from Italy, or the Holy Land. Her eyes were so blue that they were almost transparent, and her hair was wild and red, like that of Captain Flann's, but his accent was a little different.

"Scotland." Raja hummed in interest before she picked up her spoon and began eating the warm food. It calmed her unsettled stomach to the point that she could go back to sleep, and Gianna made sure that she was comfortable before taking the dishes and leaving the room.

She tossed and turned for a moment, the vivid image of her blood still fresh in her mind as it stained the white sheets.

It was no wonder Diana didn't believe her. She was found floating downriver, six weeks pregnant, and claiming to have an ex-husband that should have been reported as looking for her by then. Technically, he was not responsible for her well-being any longer, but it would be smiled upon by his next wife. Those facts implied that she attempted suicide over her divorce and pregnancy, or that someone had violated her and she couldn't live with herself knowing she had a baby for her attacker. Things were not looking good.

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Altaïr had been searching for three days, and to no avail. The female informant had pointed him in the direction of the cathedral where she had seen Ajram and the Templars. The same guard that was there the day Raja was chased was still on duty.

The assassin asked him if he saw a young woman in a veil enter the church, and he said yes, and added the fact that she seemed to be in some kind of trouble. He asked why, and the older man replied by pointing out that three Templars had chased her out of the chambers and into the street, heading north. Strange enough, he did not seem estranged by the assassin's questions, and didn't bother to call over his comrades that were just around the corner.

The vendors on the street that day remembered the chase as well, and pointed him in the right direction, only to come to a dead end.

Aside from the rushing water in the canal, that part of Rome where anyone had last seen her was quiet. There were a few gondolas in the water, but abandoned and rotting away. The house fronts on the shores of either side were run-down, as if no one had lived there for years. The paint on the shutters was chipped, and the cobblestones were caked with sludge from the canal.

If anything had happened to her down there, no one would know unless they had happened to stumble upon the struggle, assuming that there was one.

He returned to the Sanctuary to question the female informant again, this time about missing women and what happened to them.

She explained that most women that went missing tried to escape an abusive husband, slavery, or both, and that there was a low-key group of Catholic nuns that had secret refuges around Rome specifically for battered women. There were three in each part of Rome, nine in total, which meant Raja could have been in any one of them, if she hadn't been washed out to sea.

Altaïr tried not to think of that last possibility.

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"Would you like more soup, Raja?" Gianna asked after seeing her empty bowl. That was her third serving that day. She had had enough of chopped carrots, chicken and celery.

"No. I need solid food. I've had enough of broth," she replied. In the course of three days, they had spoiled her. They helped her bathe, clothed her in fine threads, and fed her regularly, like a fattened house cat.

"I'll see what I can do," the younger girl said. Gianna rarely showed any other emotion than humility. She actually felt bad about treating her similar to a lowly servant, and she the master.

Although she was not on her feet much, Raja managed to see some of the other women that resided at the Sanctuary. It was almost like walking through a nightmare.

One woman had a missing eye; her fiancé had mistaken her brother for a flirtatious man on the street, and took out his anger on her face. He was pardoned for his mistake, but she did not—could not—forgive him, and so she ran away in the middle of the night. Her name was Mara, meaning bitter in Hebrew, although the remains of her sweet face did not denote it.

Another woman had been set on fire for putting too much pepper in her husband's dinner. The attempted murder happened three years ago, but they were still peeling melted clothing from her charred skin. Her name was Minuit.

There were countless others who had been through similar lethal marriages, but Raja would have had to live at least a hundred years to hear all of their sad tales.

Looking at all the other women who had been through hell, Raja reassessed her relationship with Altaïr; it wasn't that bad. He would say things that cut like glass, but it wasn't often that she was insulted. Even when he was upset, he never laid a hand on her, unlike so many men in the world.

Sighing, she laid on her stomach that strangely felt empty and hollow below her belly button.

With…..the baby gone, she felt its absence, even though she never knew that it was there. How could she go six weeks without knowing the difference?

Her menstruation period was one major issue she had happened to ignore with so much going on in her life. She had been experiencing nausea, but she assumed it was from dehydration or nervousness. Her breasts, well, she thought they were finally beginning to grow some more after such a long period of inactivity.

Raja would have been extremely happy to know that she was with child, and put much effort into being ready for its birth in the months preceding it. A child was considered a blessing—a gift from God, like the prophet Samuel to his barren mother, Hannah.

Her recklessness, her anger, and her selfishness cost her marriage and her baby. Every moment spent not looking for Ajram was another minute, another foot, and perhaps another sea that pushed her farther away from finding him.

Her eyes began to burn, her throat hurt when she tried to swallow, and her nose began to run.

What had she done?

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By the time evening had set in, Altaïr had been to every single Sanctuary in the city, except for the one that was settled by the largest canal. And at every refuge, the woman at the door said the same thing, "We do not release the names of women to unwelcome strangers."

If he were just aimlessly wandering around—which he never did—he would have missed it. But his eye was trained to distinguish every object from another and isolate the target in his head. The building was right in front of him, out of the way and covered in vines, and made of brownish-red terra cotta.

The door was made of wood and closed shut, but the windows revealed women flitting about, some covered in bandages, others perfectly fine. Raja had to be in there somewhere.

Before he could knock once, a middle-aged woman swung open the door, eyeing him suspiciously. He was surprised to see a woman the size of a child with her hands on her hips.

"May I help you?" she asked in a thick Italian accent.

"I'm looking for a woman named Rajanah La'Ahad." She thought for a moment.

"What does she look like?"

"Tall, slender, green eyes, black hair." He had a vivid image of her as clear as day in his mind.

"I'll be right back," she told him, slamming the door in his face before he could ask anything else. Judging by the way she sized him up after every time he spoke, she didn't like him—or any man that much, and she probably knew he was an Assassin. Chances were that she'd never let him in since it was for battered and abused women.

He'd have to find another way in.

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"Diana, there's a man out front looking for a woman named Rajanah. That pregnant woman you brought in—is that her name?"

"Yes. He might be her ex-husband. What does he look like?"

"Tall, tanned, handsome, and in all white—with a lot of knives."

"That's her ex-husband, Julietta. He threw her out while she was pregnant with his child. Do not let him in, and do not let him know she's here." Nodding, the shorter woman left Diana's chambers to feed him all the lies she was given.

Diana returned to her writing, unsure if the lies were actually helping Raja, rather than hurting her.

The woman finally returned to the front door, where Altaïr was leaned up against the wall, scowling at everyone passing by.

"Rajanah La'Ahad is not here. I'm sorry." Her voice was unsympathetic and monotonous—she was lying, simply hated him, or both.

He bowed as she closed the door, and went around the corner to scale the wall on the darkened side of the building to get in through the latticework on the roof.

From the street, the Sanctuary did not look so spacious, but now, standing on the roof, it was quite large and expansive, like a network of rooms and chambers. It wouldn't be easy to find her with that woman lurking around, and the other women would definitely scream if they saw a large man drop from the ceiling with weapons in their midst.

He would have to wait until nightfall.

Just as the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, Raja had finally had her baked chicken, boiled string beans, and yams. Although it was long overdue, it was good.

The meat was thoroughly cooked, the beans firm, and the yams were sweet. Gianna had tried her best, and succeeded.

"Thank you, Gianna," she said, handing her the plate. "It was very good."

"You're welcome, Miss Rajanah." Before she could walk away, she called out her name.

"Gianna…..if I ever sounded harsh or spoiled rotten, I'm sorry." The girl didn't know how to take the apology. Her pale cheeks turned bright red.

"It's alright. You were never unkind in your words and actions. I should tell you, a man came looking for you earlier today. They said he was very handsome."

'Altaïr is looking for me?'

"My ex-husband is looking for me."

"Diana said he left after Julietta told him you weren't here."

Furrowing her brows, "Why would she tell him I'm not here?" Gianna seemed just as confused as she.

"I'm assuming she wanted to protect you from him. She's seen so many women escaping from abusive husbands that live in denial and keep going back until they are eventually killed. She wants every woman that comes here to be able to live on her own and without fear of being hurt again. You've seen the women here that are so badly hurt that some cannot even walk again. She doesn't want that for you—or any one of us." Her gray-blue eyes were pleading yet dishonest, almost as if she were hiding something.

"Gianna….is there something you want to talk about?" she asked softly.

She turned away, smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirts.

"No."

"Gianna, you can talk to me; no one has to know." Her eyes grew wide and watery as if she was going to cry, but she didn't.

She finally sat down on Raja's bed.

"When I was seventeen, I was betrothed to the most handsome and richest man in my village. He had hair like fire and eyes the color of the sea. He was kind to me, bringing me gifts of jewelry and fine dresses. Naturally, everyone was happy for me, and I had no choice but to fall in love with him. One day, it all changed. He stopped bringing gifts, which I didn't mind, but he became very mean and irritable. According to arrangement, I endured it because the marriage was so important to my parents.

A few days before our wedding, he forced me to…to sleep with him more than once in just a few hours. He was not gentle when he…_kissed_ me," her voice trembled, her words having greater depth than said. A tear fell from her right eye.

"He canceled the wedding, and paid for me to be his slave. My parents needed the money, so they sold me off. For two years, I was victim to his touch all over my body. I hated myself for letting him touch me, and for my physical being…responding as if I enjoyed it." She had to stop and catch her breath. "I finally managed to run away one night after he called for me, and rode a boat to England. From there, I traveled with a Libyan caravan until the old man stopped here in Rome two years ago."

Raja was stunned. A young, beautiful woman like her had lived such a dark, terrible past. The stories she had heard from other women in Banghezi when she was a girl were never ended with happy endings. Often times, the women had to be unfaithful to their husbands in order to feel loved.

"I'm so sorry, Gianna," she breathed, placing a hand on her shoulder, which apparently triggered her tears.

"You're the first person I've told the truth," she whispered, getting to her feet. She turned her head so that Raja couldn't see her face. "I have to go." Raja could understand that she had to be alone for a few moments.

Now in the mood to take an evening stroll, Raja got to her feet, struggling to keep her balance. She was still so weak from her blood loss; there was no use in trying to make it back to the Assassin stronghold alone. Someone would have to be sent for her—preferably Sofia.

There was no need for her scarf out of doors in Rome. It was always warm, even at night.

The city was very quiet, and the stars above her were bright as always. It was a nice day, aside from the saddening tale of Gianna.

She wished there was something she could do for the girl.

Something was on the latticework above her head, causing it to shake a little. It was more and likely a cat wandering around the city.

She waited for it to appear, and it did. But it wasn't what she expected. It was something much larger. It couldn't be….

Just when she started to think the inevitable, Altaïr dropped in silent as always, and furrowed his brows in bewilderment when he laid eyes on her.

Her heart was pounding loudly in her ears. She didn't know what to do. Run? Scream? Fight?

Finally, he took a step towards her, and Raja tried to keep calm.

"How did you find me?" she asked.

"It doesn't matter." He was glum as usual.

"We should go into my room; Diana does not like uninvited men." Her voice had a cold edge even she didn't expect.

He surveyed her private chambers, noting the scarlet bed sheets and woven chair in the corner. She closed the door. What was going to happen now?

"I've come for you," was all he said.

"And you expect me to forget what happened not too long ago?" she asked. He let out a quiet sigh.

"Raja, it was a silly argument."

"Even if it was, you still refuse to acknowledge that you were in the wrong!" she hissed. That was all she wanted from him.

The assassin did not speak; Raja began walking around the room, touching the edge of the writing table.

"You really hurt me, Altaïr," she said. More silence drifted between them before he spoke.

"I'm sorry," he said. It was all he _could_ say. His voice was so despondent that Raja almost didn't recognize it. She turned to face him. His hood was down, and his eyes were droopy, like a dispirited canine. Altaïr had never looked so dejected.

"Haven't you been sleeping?" she asked.

"I've been looking for you." For one reason or another, she laughed. He managed to give her a scowl through the fatigue he was feeling at the moment.

"I'm sorry for laughing. I thought I'd never see the day you actually looked human. I always see you as this unstoppable force."

"An unstoppable force can be put at rest."

"You came here for nothing." Raja was starting to get annoyed—she wanted to sleep, _and_ it was getting cold.

"Raja." His voice was not so weak. Any louder, and he would give cause for the women to stir. "Have you lost sight of what you are to do?" She ceased in her mindless fiddling about the room. Ajram was still in the city—she had seen him. The Templars would be on full alert now that they were aware the Assassins were acting to take the child.

"I have seen him."

"Where?" His tone was too rich to be contained within the four walls of her room. Diana would surely come to investigate the voices in the dead of the night.

"It will have to wait until morning; your voice is too loud," she warned him, lying down on her bed. He watched as she settled in.

"Are you going to watch me sleep, or are you going to rest as well?" Before he could even formulate a response, "Come lie down," she ordered. Even a Master Assassin like he had to be submissive at times.

Altaïr lay down next to her, his face up to the ceiling. He had forgotten what it was like to be off his feet.

"What about the other women?" Raja turned over, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"We'll be gone before they awaken." With that, neither spoke another word.

She wondered when she would be able to tell him about the baby.

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Alright, this chapter was long overdue, and probably too wordy and boring. I hated this chapter; it was such a chore. With that, I have nothing more to say.


	36. Baby Steps

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of UbiSoft, so please do not sue. However, Raja is an original creation and thus belongs to me.

A/N: You'll have to forgive me for the lack of indicators in the last chapter for changing viewpoints. For some reason, Fanfiction doesn't save everything you type. Enjoy!

Chapter Thirty-Six: Baby Steps

The next morning, Raja found herself having to wake up Altaïr, who had fallen into a sleep so deep, that when she tapped his shoulder, he mumbled something she couldn't understand—and she doubted he could, either. He must have only allowed himself to sleep so many hours in a day before setting out to find her.

The way she felt about it was like a two-edged sword—she wanted him to feel something other than contentment for a brief period, but not at the cost of his physical health. She still cared about him deeply.

The assassin was still groggy when he sat up, his posture slightly awkward, but after a few moments, he was fully alert, eyes sharp and glistening.

Raja decided that they had been too kind to her in her stay at the Sanctuary, so she slipped a few gold coins under her pillow along with the tortoise-shell comb Gianna had given her to groom her curls. Her wild brown locks were almost completely gone, giving her hair a flat, straight appearance. She didn't recognize the stranger looking back at her in the mirror.

As she folded the blankets and smoothed the sheets on the bed, Raja felt a pair of eyes on her body, watching her every move, calculating her every step. The assassin was ready to leave.

He let her step out into the drafty hallway first, looking up the corridor and down, noting the Mistresses were probably still asleep. Everything was silent, with the exception of the rooster crowing some distance away.

She would miss the simplicity of life at the Sanctuary, as she did Crete, the place she once called home. There were many places she laid her head, but only one really had any deep sentimental value: Masyaf. And she was eager to go back.

Raja led the way out of the maze-like chambers and opened the main door for the both of them, stepping out into the street to smell the moist earth from the chill of the night.

"Raja." She stopped in her tracks and turned around; Gianna had followed them.

"Gianna, how did you…..?" she drew out, perplexed. Like a child whose wrongdoing had been exposed, she stepped forward, eyes downcast.

"I heard your conversation last night with him." Her eyes flitted to Altaïr, and then back to the ground. "I felt I should see you off and explain to Diana what had happened when she discovers that you are gone." Smart girl she was.

She approached the girl as a friend—and sister.

"Thank you, Gianna. Out of all the strangers I've met, you are the kindest and most sincere. Despite what you've endured, you've managed to keep a heart of gold. I would encourage you to come with me, but it is not my place, and I'm sure it is not in your wishes to leave the family you've gained at the Sanctuary." The girl smiled; it seemed to catch the assassin's eye.

"Yes, I love Diana and the others very much. We protect and comfort each other, and I need them as much as they need me. It would be unwise to say I hope we see each other in the future, so I will say goodbye and the best of wishes to you both. I will continue to pray over your loss, Raja." Her eyes jumped from Gianna to Altaïr, whose face was ashen and whitewashed as a tombstone on a grave.

Honestly, she wanted to slap the girl for revealing her secret, but maintained composure to distract him from the truth, which was nearly impossible.

"My mother will be hard to forget," her voice dropped at the end, hugging Gianna briefly. He saw the look of confusion on the girl's face as Raja pulled away.

"Goodbye, Gianna." And with that, Raja indicated that Altaïr was to lead the way back to the Assassin stronghold.

They walked side by side in silence, her eyes trained to watch as the merchants set up shop along the fronts of the buildings, and the city workers sweep the dust from the stones. Raja felt his eyes throwing daggers in her direction. He wouldn't cause a commotion in the middle of the streets.

Although she was trying to be coy with the loss of her baby, it was hard not to be short of breath when Altaïr was walking so fast, or had she really not gained that much strength in the days that she was resting?

"Slow down; I haven't done much of anything in the past few days," she told him softly, touching the sleeve of his robes.

He seemed to listen; he allowed her to cling to his arm, but not so much to weigh him down and hamper their progress—they were almost to the northeast gate.

"Sofia has been worrying about you, and so has the Master."

"I'll be sure to greet them when we arrive."

As in the days Raja was with the women in the compound, they were up early to prune the flowers and bushes, and tend to the fruit trees in the garden. Sofia was flitting to and fro in a thin blue dress until she caught sight of the familiar duo coming down the main path.

"Raja!" she breathed, hurrying to her for a warm embrace. There was so much emotion in her gesture that Raja almost shed tears in joy. "I worried for your safety. I'm glad you're back."

"I missed you, Sofia." They broke apart, and she noticed her friend's hand rested on a small lump below her breasts.

"Sofia, are you—" She nodded, her smile as radiant as the sun. Raja laughed in happiness and shock in her reaction. It had crossed her mind that some evil force had taken her child and put it in this woman's body to test her.

"We had been trying for months, and now all we have to do is wait."

"I'm glad you've reaped blessings from your efforts." An embarrassed flush of red crossed her face.

"Yes, thank you; if you'll excuse me." She returned to the garden, already careful in her movements so as not to agitate the life growing inside of her. The assassin waited a moment to bring Raja back to her senses.

"Raja, we must address the Master." She returned to the moment, snapping her head up in his direction. Her eyes were distant.

"Yes." She followed him inside the main building and up the stairs to the Master's study. He was leaned over his desk, examining a weathered document until he heard their approach.

He looked up, his gray eyes suddenly illuminated like a spark in a flame.

"I was starting to think Master Altaïr would not find you; I'm glad I was wrong." She bowed low, returning to her initial position with her brain feeling like it was swimming in water. The effort to walk all the way to the compound, coupled with the brief incline up the stairs had been too much.

"I am glad to be back." He moved to his book shelves, pulling a black leather-bound novel from it.

"I'm sure you were made aware of Merodach's disappearance. It appears he did not accept the terms of his punishment." Her encounter with his twin was still fresh in her mind.

"The Merodach you know is dead. The man who tried to kill me and Altaïr both is his brother—and a Templar," she informed them. They both turned to her in slight disbelief.

"What evidence do you have to support this?" She should have known her accusations would not be taken seriously without visible proof of his fraudulence and rival allegiance.

"I heard his conversation with another Templar at the church. He has my cousin, and he stated that he killed Merodach to take his place and infiltrate the Assassin compound." She was sure that Altaïr would believe her every word, but that was because he knew her well; this Master did not. His eyes were unsure as he examined her.

"If that is so, then we must find him and interrogate him; he will have information that they can use against us. I will send Titanio after the impostor immediately to confirm your accusations. For now, you both may rest. There will be much to discuss later." He removed a fresh sheet of paper from his reservoir and began scribbling something, perhaps for their next move against the Templars.

Raja started to walk away, and the assassin looked as if he were to follow. She turned around, placing a firm hand on his chest. She did not look into his eyes.

"I will be in the garden." They parted ways, and she tried to hurry down the stairs, and would have fallen down the steps if Altaïr wasn't there to help her. Her legs seemed to give out underneath her weight.

His hands were tight around her waist to keep her close to him. She felt something awaken in her blood.

"Perhaps you should lie down upstairs."

"No." Her tone was sharp and resolute. "I've been stuck indoors for five days." He helped her down the stairs to the garden outside. The women had cleared out, perhaps to have a quick break to relax and talk quietly amongst each other. He guided her away from the crowd so that they could be alone by the gate sectioning the pear tree from the rest of the plants.

Its shade was a welcoming invitation to sit.

Raja sat curled up against the white stone perimeter, her face concealed by the sleeves of her burgundy dress. Apparently, it was a gift from the Sanctuary. The rich garb gave her a regal appearance, although he was used to her hair being full and curly. This woman sitting next to him was not the woman he knew.

"Raja, what happened to you?" he asked. She did not want to answer his question.

Looking up, she noticed the clouds were gray on their undersides, and the air smelled of rain. Light dew was starting to gather on the leaves in the form of droplets, and the trees were starting to bend in the gusts of a gathering storm.

"I do not wish to talk about it." She felt a tug on her hair; it was his hand, coaxing her into sitting closer to him. He had never done such a thing in the past.

Raja gave in to his gentle demand, and settled next to him. His arm rested cozily around her shoulders. He rested his chin on her head.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, staring hard at the stub where his ring finger should have been.

"Would you prefer that I was unkind to you?" The rain was visible now, creating a grey curtain in the heavens, where only a few rays of light shone through the clouds.

"After everything I've done, you do not hold a grudge against me?" Her voice denoted surprise.

"It would not benefit either of us if discord arose. You have seen its effects." She recalled how they used to be.

"Yes, regrettably," she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. "I do not wish to travel down that road again." A flash of lightning streaked across the sky, followed by thunder rumbling in the distance. She felt the seat of her skirt gathering moisture from the downpour.

"We should go inside," he suggested, helping her to her feet, holding her waist as they walked through the slippery grass. Everyone else had returned inside already to escape the storm.

The main hall was warm with candle light and the distinct hum of conversation in the air. The library was empty, which meant that the other Assassins were either in the dining hall or in the sparring room.

"Your belongings had been moved to my room when your disappearance was widely known." She knew exactly why, and the thought of it chilled her to the bone.

"I guess your status as Grand Master does not mean much to them."

"They are not well aware of my abilities; do not mistake their ignorance for arrogance." He led her up the stairs to the third floor, which looked abandoned and cold. The rain had become so heavy that they could both hear the water through the walls.

"Italy must not have had a lot of rainfall this past spring," she noted. Altaïr opened the door to their room and led her inside to the bed. Her wet clothes made contact with her body, and she shivered, standing up quickly. He saw her immediate reaction to the cold. A ghost of a smirk crossed his face.

"Perhaps you should bathe and then change into something warm." The assassin headed into the lavatory and pulled the lever for warm water. It began to fill the tub.

When a certain amount of time had lapsed, Raja gathered her fresh clothing and headed to the bathroom, where Altaïr was releasing the lever to stop the steaming water until it came to a drip. He looked at her.

"Your water is ready." She pulled her dress down over her shoulders, and the prudish assassin looked away.

"You act as if you've never seen me undressed before."

"It is no longer my privilege to see you in such a state; I will be in the bedroom." He took his leave, and she finished getting undressed, plunging herself in the warm water before she could feel the touch of the cold.

Sighing, she rested her head on the side of the tub, thinking hard about what would happen next.

Ajram was closer than she had realized, but would now be inaccessible due to her failed attempt at gathering information. Chances were that the Templars would keep him holed up somewhere that the Assassins could not penetrate nor infiltrate, and Merodach—or whoever he was—would know both Altaïr's and her face.

Raja began formulating different schemes to finish her quest while trying to fight off the somnambulism overwhelming her body.

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When Raja awakened, she was lying on the bed, her face up to the ceiling. Someone was shouting at her, but it was muffled, as if something were in her ears.

The face of the person was fuzzy and round, like a ball of fur, and she couldn't make out the features.

She felt a searing pain tear through her insides, and she tried to scream, but she had no voice. Her throat was shut tight, like a door to some precious treasure.

The shouting continued and Raja kept trying to scream only to have her grow very exhausted until the faceless person handed her something small and warm.

It was a baby, beautiful and perfect. Wide brown eyes, cinnamon-colored skin, small pink lips, and a tuft of dark hair on the crown of its head.

She smiled, brushing its skin with her fingers. The baby started crying at her touch, and then its forehead started to run with blood. Hurriedly, she wiped it away, only to have its flow increase and eventually overtake the baby's body at an alarming rate.

Its cries grew louder and she began to panic, looking all around her to discover that the bed was suspended in darkness.

When the crying suddenly died down, she looked down at the infant. It was as still as a boulder in the ocean.

She felt tears fall from her eyes, and her attempt to scream was loud and unhindered until she felt a hand on her shoulder, releasing her from the confines of that horrible nightmare.

It was Altaïr, whose brows were furrowed and his lips were fixed in a tight frown. He was wearing a sleeveless blue tunic.

All of her senses were numb—she had been in the water all this time, and it had grown cold.

"You fell asleep," he stated matter of factly. His golden brown eyes never left her face.

"I c-can't m-move," she shivered. The assassin grabbed a dry towel, threw it over his shoulder, and helped her stand up before wrapping the towel around her body and carrying her in his arms. He drew in a sharp breath when the skin of her face touched his neck.

She was shivering still, but much worse with the Sanctuary's icy draft flowing in the room.

He sat on the long furniture by the fireplace with her in his arms, hoping the flames would warm her as he rubbed her arms and back.

Raja felt uncomfortable and embarrassed by all of the attention Altaïr was giving her, unfamiliar with this affection—aside from the few times that they had communicated in the most intimate way possible.

After a few moments, she began to feel warmth in her feet and hands once again. The chills had ceased, and now the heat emanating from his feverish body was beginning to have an effect on her.

She looked up, curious to see what he was doing. He was merely sitting and watching the flames dance, his eyes reflecting an eerie glow.

Closing her eyes, she tucked her head under his chin, listening to his heart beat not too far away.

"Thank you," she said, thankful her voice had not really disappeared. His hand moved the towel so that less of her thigh was showing.

"You're welcome." For once, he said something that did not leave her wondering if he really cared when he did something commendable. "Are you hungry?" She shook her head.

"No." Her stomach said otherwise loud and clear to her dismay.

The assassin set her down on the couch.

"I will be back shortly." He got up and went out the door, closing it firmly behind him. His behavior was borderline submissive to her will, and she did not wish to yield that much power over him, yet she wanted to hold on to it for a little while longer.

Altaïr returned with a plate in his hand, and sat next to her, placing it in her lap. It was lunch, consisting of mutton and potatoes—not a single vegetable in sight.

Hesitantly, she picked up the fork, jabbing the cooked flesh and placing the meat in her mouth, feeling its stringy texture on her tongue. It had a sweet-tart flavor, like eating honey and salt simultaneously.

"You don't like it." His voice had come as a surprise; she had forgotten he was there, watching her eat.

"I do, I just need to get used to eating meat again."

"They did not feed you?" He had grown defensive almost immediately.

"Only soup with vegetables and small bits of chicken. But it was enough." Raja put another sliver in her mouth and chewed carefully.

"How did you end up there?"

"Merodach thought the canal would wash me out to the sea. But thankfully, someone fished me out and took me to them. I doubt I would have survived alone." She set the plate on the table in front of them and placed her hands inside her towel, trying to keep warm without being clothed.

"Your clothes are clean." Perhaps it was uncomfortable for him, as well.

Raja got to her feet and set her bag on the bed, pulling out her sleeveless green dress and sliding it over her head. It fit more snug than before.

She returned to the couch, sitting on the far end.

"Did you think you would never find me, Altaïr?"

"That thought only surfaced once." It was hard to tell if he was being honest.

"If I were dead, what would you have done?" her voice trembled.

"I do not know; an aimless, frustrated man only brings destruction."

"You were frustrated?" she asked, turning to face him. Their eyes met.

"I was beginning to feel that way. When you care for something enough to go searching for it, you hope to find it." Her eyes began to burn.

"Is that all you can say? That you care? Is there not more than common affection?" He stayed silent. "I finally realized that I did more than care for you when I saved you from Tauraj and your brother from death. I risked my own life to preserve yours more than once, and not just any good-willed person would do such a thing, unless you are Jesus himself—and I'm not. But I finally figured out why I feel the way I do. I love you, Altaïr, but I never hear the same from you. I know actions speak louder than words, but the tongue is a healing and reassurance to someone who is to be your wife," she rattled on, getting to her feet. "And the woman who was going to be the mother of your child." At that, he looked up at her, his brows furrowed as he stood tall and menacing, approaching her quickly.

"Speak sense, woman," he growled, seizing her by her arms. She pushed out of his grasp, on the verge of tears.

"I was pregnant!" she shouted. Anger laced her every word like ribbon in a finely tailored dress. "I was carrying a child and it left me! Sophia has my child, and I can't do anything about it! I know you hate me for this, I hate myself for this! I was selfish and stupid!" She leaned against the wall, sobbing loudly. Altaïr turned her to face him and engulfed her in his arms.

"It was so small, so bloody….." she muttered.

He guided her to the bed and lay down next to her, listening to her muffled cries of lamentation. Her eyes were red and puffy from her tears.

"This is my fault," she whispered.

Altaïr did not know what to say to her any further. Her pain was beyond his imagination.

He had never lost a child.

And it was strange, knowing that he would have been a father.

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Hello, all. I believe it has been five weeks since I last updated. Winter months are always busy for me, especially this year. Hopefully, we won't get an assignment over the break that takes up most of my time, that way I can work on my stories.

This is another chapter that I hated writing. I've never been pregnant, so I can't even begin to fathom what it would be like to lose a baby, and it's hard to conjure up Altaïr's feelings about the matter when he doesn't reveal anything about Maria's pregnancies. We're almost out of this emotional hole they're in. Bear with me. Until next time!


	37. Chapter 37

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of UbiSoft, so please do not sue. However, Raja is an original creation and thus belongs to me.

A/N: I think I have returned to the universe. O_o

**Chapter Thirty-Seven: Setting Priorities**

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When Raja finally calmed down, Altaïr found that the fronts of his robes were soaked with tears.

He was still at a loss for words.

She sat up straight, dabbing at her puffy eyelids with her sleeve.

"It was only six weeks, but I felt it. I felt it growing _inside_ of me," she said. Her hands were resting just below her navel. "I hadn't paid attention to the signs. My weight, the daily case of nausea—how could I be so oblivious?"

The assassin sat up as well, bringing her back against his chest.

"You would have never known until you started to grow. This isn't your fault." His voice was tender and reassuring.

"Yes, it is. If hadn't gotten angry that day, I would have stayed with you. I would never have gone into the city alone." Her throat started to burn again.

"Raja, Merodach is the one who killed the child, not you. Even if he were aware that you were pregnant, he would have thrown you in the river regardless. You did not throw yourself into the water."

What he said was true. Merodach slammed her against the wall, and then directly aimed his fist for where the unborn child lay.

The image of his pale, vengeful face and snake-like green eyes made her shiver all over in indignation.

"I could have fought him off. I've killed men in the past to defend myself from rape or worse."

"Being panicked makes it increasingly difficult to act in the way we see the best."

"You've never been panicked a day in your life," she told him.

"We've all experienced panic at least once in our lives; I am sure to always be prepared, should anything change."

"I guess even on this occasion, you were prepared, as well." Raja looked up into his face, noting the slight bewilderment in his brows.

Altaïr kept his mouth closed tight, perhaps in deep thought, and she broke away from him, slipping on her shoes and heading out the door.

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When it was time for lunch, Raja sat at the end of the long bench, away from the rest of the women.

After taking a few sips of water, she would look at them out of the corner of her eye.

They were smiling and laughing, teeth sparkling and white, eyes twinkling like the starry heavens, and even their clothes seemed to glow, while she remained a shadow in the corner.

Sofia was the highlight of the loudest banter. About a dozen older women surrounded her, counseling her on how to keep the baby safe in the womb and what to eat to make sure it came out fine.

Her hands rested on the small lump that seemed larger than just a few hours ago.

Raja couldn't find it in herself to say anything, or even to make an approach.

So she sat, staring hard at her meal. The thought of being invisible was very appealing.

After a few more moments, she decided she could not stay in Sofia's vicinity; therefore, she got up and left, unaware of what was to happen next.

The men's eating hall was still crowded and bursting with conversation. The gardens were empty, a sanctuary for solitude.

She rested on the side of the well, examining the gray stone it was made out of. It was hard, yet delicate enough to break off in her hand like dry bread.

For a reason she did not know, it angered her—its frailty, its inability to resist pressure, and thus walked away from it.

The grass growing beneath her feet was irritating the skin of her ankles, and she was tempted to rip it all away.

The air was stuffy and congested, like a scarf wrapped too tight around her neck. There was nowhere she could go and find nothing wrong.

"When I heard that you were alive, I felt as if someone had told me my sister returned from Forli." His voice was like a smooth, cold breeze that seldom nullified the staunch heat of summer.

"I thought the Templars had done away with you, but I was certain that Altaïr's concern for your safety would ensure your return."

"I am glad that he showed such towards me."

"Although it is difficult to get more than two words out of him, it's evident he loves you. The entire time you were missing, he wandered about like a lost puppy, although he did not openly admit it. With a man like him, actions speak louder than words."

"Sometimes actions are not enough, but I have accepted the conditions of our relationship." Her friend finally revealed himself.

"Accepting one's mate for who they are and embracing their positive qualities is something to be commended for. I have seen many unhappy unions based on minimal things. And that union makes for a strong family." She felt a pinch in her side.

"I can see that you and Sofia will be wonderful parents soon; she's very excited about your child." Her words were sincere, but could not convey any emotions whatsoever. Her tongue was heavy and laden with solemnity.

"Raja, I'm talking about _you_."

She turned to face him, "What about me?"

His grey-green eyes lost their shimmer, "I'm sorry." Raja turned her sights to the ever brightening afternoon. The sun burned orange in the pale blue sky.

"I would prefer if no one spoke of this anymore; no one can change what happened with their apologies." Something that resembled a tear fell down her cheek.

"I understand, Raja. Losing something dear is not easy and we all cope in different ways. When you are feeling up to it, the Master would like to see you and your husband." She nodded, and followed him to the main hall. The Master was sitting down, staring hard at the table. Altaïr was to her left, watching her closely.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said, looking up into her eyes. She suddenly felt uncomfortable, looking around the room for something else to focus on. "Merodach will soon answer for all that he has done." His voice sounded hopeful and determined.

"We have traced their movements to an abandoned trading warehouse. My informant has told me that Merodach was seen leaving and entering this building many times." Raja stepped forward, her movements anxious and sharp.

"Was Ajram with him?" she asked hurriedly.

"No. Now that they know they are being watched, they will be very careful not to have him out in the day light. There are four known Templars staying within this city, and Merodach would make the fifth that we did not know of."

"What are their names?" Altaïr finally spoke. The Master studied the younger man's face for a brief moment.

"Gagno da Tivoli, Dante di Asti, Philippe D'Anges, and Luco Santarello—these four men have proven to be the remaining foundations of the Templars."

"Very well. All we need is to trace their movements, decipher a pattern and determine when it is best to strike," Titanio suggested.

"Before we attempt to find any one of them, we must find Merodach and bring him back here. He has murdered one of my best men, and a Grand Master's unborn child."

"I will wait for him at the storehouse," Altaïr volunteered.

Titanio stepped forward, "I will have to show you the way; it is outside the city, situated on Lago di Bracciano." He nodded once in agreement.

"Good," the Master smiled. "Use the day to rest and prepare. You will set out early tomorrow morning." Titanio bowed before heading down the stairs, and Altaïr and Raja followed suit. It had not yet reached evening and already she was in need of rest.

"I'm going to lie down," she told him quietly, departing up the stairs slowly. The Assassin watched as she eventually disappeared, her movements sluggish and inert.

He stepped outside into the garden, looking up at the sky, wondering if He was watching. There was never a time in his life when He played a vital role in his decisions. The Giver of Life, he was called by many—would he take it, too? It did not make sense—the priest's words, the crier's loud banter—it didn't add up. Why give a gift so precious, just to take it away?

Although unknown to him until just that morning, Altaïr had wondered if he would ever become a father in his lifetime. After…after Adha was taken from him, he was not sure if he would have been able to love a woman again like he did her.

He was glad he was wrong.

"Titanio has told me of what happened to Raja; I'm sorry," Sofia whispered to him. The petite woman had been standing there for some time.

"It was not your fault."

"It's all anyone can say for now, until Merodach is brought back here and punished."

"Revenge is not what we seek; a proper exercise of justice will bring a piece of serenity back to her for what she has lost." He finally focused his sights on her, noticing that she, too, was expecting. "Take special care of the life growing inside of you."

"I will," she nodded. "Thank you." He returned inside and decided to roam through their library. Most of the titles were in Latin, a language he had yet to study. A book in Sanskrit caught his eye and he picked it up. It was written by an Assassin named Darius.

_Xerxes was no easy feat. He had the most unusual guardians. One was blind with spikes protruding from his jaw. Another was a woman covered in golden piercings. And the other—I will have continuous nightmares about this one—his eyes were the color of ice in the winter. His teeth were filed to a fine tip and his hair resembled fire. I associated his appearance with a demon, and evil spirits are hard to kill. I almost lost my arm to him, the one bearing our new weapon, the hidden blade. I tried it on him; he didn't expect to feel cold metal in his heart—if he'd had one._

_ Xerxes was waiting for me in his lavish surroundings: golden furniture, fresh fruit, animal throws, and exotic, bare women that my wife would certainly scold me for gazing upon. He wasn't afraid to die; his arrogance knew no bounds. He asked me what I wanted. I told him his life. He laughed and asked me again. I repeated my first answer._

_ He told me that no matter how many I killed, that we would never wipe the Templars from existence. With his vast army behind him, another would take his place and blacken the land with their twisted philosophies. He offered me the women on his divans, the gold on his balcony, the prestige in my allegiance to him._

_ I told him that I did not need a variety of women to satisfy my desire, that his gold was nothing but chaff in the wind, and that the power he had in mind was a mere fantasy. Angered by my response, he struck me across the face with his hand. I was a fool to let him catch me off guard. We fought madly, breaking vases, destroying furniture, and destroying his palace in flames._

_ His last words did not reflect the thinking of a Templar, but rather, a self-righteous, egocentric imitation of a god, 'My treasure will follow me into the afterlife.'_

_ When I returned home, I spent the night with my wife, and she soon found out that she was to have a child—a girl that we would name Aziza. In the years following her birth, my family of three grew to a family of eight, and I never knew so much joy could come from being a father and watching a part of me grow and mature—right before my eyes. When my sons married and had children, they brought their children to me. When my daughter married, she discovered that she could not have any. Barren and saddened, she withdrew from the family, spending more time in the desert than in the village. _

_ One day, she returned from the desert, excited about a small golden orb she had found. I examined it a few times and thought nothing of it. A few months after its discovery, Aziza was pregnant. I had never seen her so happy in years. We even celebrated the coming of the child for a whole week._

_ When it came time for the delivery, she struggled. The baby had decided to come out feet first; she bled like the River Eurphrates, and her screams were unbearable. I went for the orb and brought it to her—I don't know why I did. I asked that the baby be saved, as well as my daughter. She wanted children so badly. I felt its warmth shoot forth, and I watched as it engulfed her in bright light. It blinded me, but only for a moment, and when the moment was over, I could hear healthy, loud cries of a newborn. My wife cleaned the child and separated it from its mother. Another grandson had been given to me._

_ I returned to my daughter and found that she was resting. Her face was still, her eyes were closed, and she did not ask for her son. I touched her hands and squeezed them; she did not respond._

_ I do not recall how long we mourned the loss of Aziza, but the sorrow was great. Izim was distraught; he did not know what to do with his newborn son. My younger daughter agreed to nurse him since she had just birthed a child. _

_Selim continued to grow tall and strong, greater in stature than his cousins and strong enough to plow a field before midday. I was proud of him in his decision to leave for the Assassins in Arabia. Farrah and two of his male cousins decided to leave as well, taking with them the orb to show to their brothers and the secrets it whispered to me in the night._

_My dear Majhara passed just days before I turned eighty years of age. We had fallen in love when we were not yet adults, we had married when the both of us were certain, we had raised six beautiful children together and watched as they created families of their own, and I had held her hand the night she fell asleep in death. I never regretted a single day that I was with her._

_My eldest son passed before me, and I was informed that my dear Selim had fathered seven children, four girls and three boys. Even though my tree has reached over many lands, it has bared much fruit—some dying and falling to the earth, and others creating trees of their own with the seeds that they carried._

_I write this to future Assassins to read, and hopefully learn a lesson or two from my life. Long after I am gone, the war will continue, and the Templars will not rest until every Assassin is rotting in the earth. From what the orb has told me, there are those who once enslaved mankind—a superior humanoid race that existed long before us. Every truth is a lie, every myth is truth._

Altaïr closed the book and replaced it on the shelf. He exited the library and returned to his room, careful not to slam the door.

"I haven't been able to sleep," she told him. He turned to her.

"You still must rest; you haven't regained much of your strength." She sat up, rubbing her bare arms. The room had grown chilled in the summer breeze.

"I don't want anyone to pity me," she mumbled.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because I do not need it. It was only six weeks." Suddenly, he was upon her, grabbing her by her arms.

"Whether it was six weeks or eight months, it was still a child—_our_ child. You cannot just make light of the matter by claiming it was not even human. It was _alive_, with our blood rushing through its veins. If it were still alive, would you continue on in this manner?" he demanded. Raja looked into his eyes, seeing the pain, the sadness, the remorse. She did not even recognize the man before her in his passionate ranting. "You claim that I do not feel anything; it is a lie. I am feeling the most pain I have ever felt in my life. Even the death of my father was not this heart-wrenching. My child—whose eyes I will never see, breath never smell, hair never touch—is gone. You are not the only one hurt by this." He closed his eyes, exhaling long and hard. Raja held his face in her hands, tears welling up in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry." He kissed her forehead before she fell into his arms, absorbing his scent into her being. "I did not know."

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The next morning, Raja awakened just in time to see her husband gathering his things. His lips were thin and fixed in a scowl, and his eyes were hidden by the fringe of his hood.

"Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?" she asked. He paused in his movements, glancing at her.

"You looked very tired yesterday, and I will return soon." She sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes before scooting to the edge of the bed. He was just about finished when she wrapped her arms around his belted waist.

"Not even a kiss?" she asked, burying her face into the material of his robes. They always smelled of sun-kissed dirt—a pleasant, subtle odor to her nostrils.

He turned around, gathering her to him in one hand and raking through her tousled hair in the other. His eyes had grown soft as he stared into her face. "That would be unfair, my love," she added as he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

In an instant, his lips were on hers, hot and passionate like the summer sun. Raja returned the embrace, running her hands through his thick, curly hair.

His rough, calloused fingertips brushed against her bare thighs, causing her to moan lightly. She wrapped her legs tight around his waist, wanting to feel him next to her until he had to depart.

Apparently, he felt her insistence as he forced his tongue into her mouth, curling it hard against hers. Her breath hitched in her throat when he bit the skin on her neck, yet she continued to cradle his head in her hands, whispering sweet nothings to him.

Just as suddenly as they had melded together, they were separate once again, Altair's breaths hard and heavy like an Arabian stallion as he stood erect. Raja sat up, pulling her skirts down before she got to her feet, kissing him again in between exhales. He tenderly grabbed her shoulders, his eyes yearning and disarmed, "We will be together again soon." He kissed her forehead, leaving a warm imprint in her skin before he grabbed his things and headed out the door.

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Titanio was waiting for Altaïr by the gate leading to the city, accompanied by Sofia, who seemed to have grown again in the course of one day. He was beginning to understand the woe that Raja had to endure every time she set foot in the garden.

"Where's Raja?" she asked.

"Resting." She seemed satisfied with the answer, and the couple turned to one another.

"Arrivederci, mi amora," he told her, kissing her hand.

"Titanio," was all she said before returning to the other women further down the path.

"We will meet the other Assassins along the road to the lake."

"Others?" he stated more than asked. Titanio led the way into the city. The street vendors were beginning to open up their storefronts and put out their best merchandise. A few citizens aimlessly wandered the streets and others sat on the benches, sleepily watching life go by.

"Yes, others," he answered finally. "They know the entire layout of the countryside—including the Templars' strongholds. We'll need their help with surveying the land surrounding the building, otherwise we will never be able to enter undetected." He stopped at a vegetable seller and asked for three heads of lettuce, a few tomatoes and several onions. No currency exchange occurred and Altaïr saw the vendor's missing ring finger and understood why.

"We'll be away for a few days, so we'll need some food to keep us going." There were many a time when he had gone three days without food, and felt his stomach retracting into his spine. It was not a pleasant feeling, but the reward was a fattened belly for weeks.

"I'm assuming you know how to cook?"

"Sofia has taught me a few things, but she insists that I stay out of the kitchen," he laughed. "But don't worry; my food will not kill you."

"Tell me more about Merodach," he switched the subject.

Titanio slowed his pace and fell in step with Altaïr. "The real Merodach was very serious about everything he did and he never questioned an order from the Grand Master. He showed mild interest in my wife before we were married, but he never acted on it." His fellow Assassin snorted.

"The impostor—his brother—has us all under the impression that he had relaxed his standards a little, but when women began to show signs of being with child and voicing it to him, I began to suspect that something was wrong. He suddenly grew bitter towards the women and avoided all of them, saying that they were vicious liars trying to seek some kind of pleasure in annoying him and making his life miserable. The Grand Master sent the women away to a home for those with child, and left it at that. I am the only one that knows of this—and now you." He gave Altaïr a meaningful look.

"The Master before me hid many things from me and my brothers before his death," he revealed. "Betrayal in the Brotherhood is not a light issue."

"It is difficult to learn that the truth is a lie, but we wouldn't be here if that never happened." He hummed in deep thought, and watched as Titanio suddenly broke away when they approached the north gate.

He casually walked up to the animal pen, opened the pig gate, and threw some potato peels into the street. The hogs scrambled for the food, and the guards immediately began to chase after them, leaving the gate wide open.

"Interesting," was all Altaïr could say as they mounted their horses just minutes later. Titanio gave him a sly grin and cracked the reigns of his horse, galloping off to meet their enemy.

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Raja felt like a wary, small creature stepping out of its hole and into the bright sun, constantly looking to the sky for the shape of a winged creature searching for its next meal.

The women had just eaten their midday meal together, and she was yet again alone in the shade of the pear tree in the corner of the garden. Although the preparers of the meals were male, they knew exactly how to keep chicken from becoming overly dry without undercooking the flesh in the middle. If they were more approachable, she would have thanked them many times for helping her gain her appetite for something other than soup.

From around the corner came the giddy laughter and cackling of the other women, perhaps once again complimenting Sofia in the beauty of her pregnancy. Raja wished that she had had something to plug her ears; it was easy to close her eyes and shut out the roundness of her belly, the grace of her smile, the glow of expectancy.

Angrily, she snatched a patch of grass from its roots and tossed it aside. That woman hadn't done anything to offend her since she first arrived, and tried to be nothing but a good friend to her. Her gentle, unassuming demeanor mirrored that of Hifah's, who had already experienced being a mother for the first time. Malik pranced around the castle like a proud steed that had witnessed the birth of its first offspring. Something about creating a new life that came from two very small things and would eventually become something that was not so little made parents—including her own—very elated to take part in such an event. It had happened a million times in the past, long before she was born, but why was it suddenly such a harassing phenomenon that rang in her ears and appeared before her eyes like a hex from a witch?

They hadn't planned it, but trying for another one in a land far from their own was not logical or safe.

She and Altaïr were not there to survey the land and settle; Talil Nai'in had given her one last request in his honor. If threats of death, the loss of a child, and the grief the trailed behind it could not stop her from living, then it would be accomplished. Raja La'Ahad would not be known as a failure or simply as the wife of Altaïr Ibn La'Ahad.

Her accomplishments would be of her own determination and be passed down through word of mouth to her children and to generation after generation.

She got to her feet, still cautious of her lightheadedness, and rounded the corner to see Sofia draped in a necklace of flowers. Her muscles locked in place, and the resolve that she had just built up instantaneously died like a withered flower in the heat of May.

The pregnant woman locked eyes with her, her expression inscrutable. Raja wanted to return to her spot by the tree until they left, but her disarming smile forced her to sit next to her and the others. The atmosphere surrounding them choked the life out of her hostility and she couldn't help but be at ease.

"It's been so long since we spent time together, Raja. I've missed you. We all have." Her tone was so composed and yet forlorn that she began to break down. Everyone was watching.

"I'm sorry," she whispered in guilt. Voices of consolation began to fill the air and all the women gathered around her.

"Don't be sorry, Raja. We understand your loss is harder to bear when someone else is with child, as well." The Egyptian girl's belly had grown in a few days' time. Fertility was in the air like a rich perfume.

"I don't mean to be bitter or elusive, I really don't." She dabbed at her eyes. "I didn't know it was inside me until it was gone."

"How does your husband feel about the news?" Raja thought about his earlier reaction.

"He was very upset," she sighed. "I think he would have liked being a father." Her mind jumped to ten years from then, their son or daughter playing in the fields with their father, perhaps accompanied by a sibling by then. She knew he would enjoy their company, since his time with his father was cut off so abruptly when he was just eleven years of age. The details of his death chilled her to the bone, and wondered what long-lasting effect it had on him and his brother.

"I'm so sorry, Raja," Sofia lamented.

"It wasn't your fault. No one could have expected this to happen."

"Will you try for another?" one of the oldest women asked. The younger ones reddened and giggled.

"Not right away. I want to find Ajram first and perhaps be on our way home when it happens."

"Well, don't forget before you get too old." She laughed, and everyone joined in.

There was no one there to deride her, make her feel bad, or cause envy to strangle her heart.

Raja got to her feet, "Thank you all for your concern. I did not expect such kindness in such a short period of time. I have friends just like you at home in Masyaf, full of concern and genuine love. I will tell them all about you when I return."

"We'll be here, Raja. Us women have to stay together." She nodded once before heading to the main hall, searching in the library for the book she couldn't finish in her previous visit.

After a few moments of searching, the old leather shell fell into her sights and she picked it up off the shelf.

_It has been eight months since I last wrote in this book— my newborn son has been occupying most of my time. Vajra is very excited to be a father. He has done everything I ask of him: cook, clean the house, and even bathe Kaj. Our son is a happy child, and seems to reach out for his father more than me. I am delighted to see this bond grow every day, since my father did not love me enough to stay._

_I have given birth to a baby girl—it is wintertime. Vajra aided me in the delivery this time, and did not falter one bit when the child was leaving my body. He told me that he loved me dearly for sharing so much of myself with him. I don't know why, but his words made my heart ache with joy. We named the child Shukran, meaning 'Thank you' in Arabic._

_We went on to have four children together, raising them in the ways of the Assassins until they went off and had families of their own. Vajra left me in death when our youngest had her first child. I wept for him for days that bled into weeks. I loved him deeply, and I wanted us to fall asleep together, hand in hand. I still have my grandchildren, but it is not the same as having your opposite wake up next to you, eating with you, laughing with you, crying with you. Assassins are very much like the birds of prey that roam the skies—they find one male or female, fly the dance of death with their talons entangled, and then find a nest to raise their chicks for years to come. Vajra and I did just so—we found one another in the heat of battle and nearly killed one another due to miscommunication. Our romance was sudden and very passionate. We married soon after because we were sure we were meant to be together. We settled in the Oasis, where our brothers and sisters hid in the desert, and raised our children to fight for freedom._

_My vision has grown weak, and I cannot move about without a sturdy piece of wood. I cannot believe how quickly time has gone by; my granddaughter, Tatani, resembles me so much when I was a young woman. Her suitors will come soon, but I know I will not see the day she marries._

_This is my last entry, and I would like my fellow Assassins to continue their fight against an enemy to liberty, the ability to make choices freely, and the right live as we all see fit._

Raja closed the book, wishing she could take it home and share it with Altaïr and the others.

'Well, just one more entry won't hurt to read,' she thought, turning to a random page.

_That Assassin named Vajra thinks he's Ra's gift. His fancy new blade hidden in his gauntlet did not impress me, although I wished I had thought of it first. Besides, it required the removal of a finger—I did not want to lose any one of my body parts unless it was in battle. _

_He flirts with the other women, and they absent-mindedly give in to his charm—as if they had never taken an assignment as a courtesan or concubine. He tried it with me today—and did he fail miserably._

_The other women laughed at him when he fell on his back, and I enjoyed seeing his eyes cut daggers at me. Not every woman was a fool to give in to a pretty smile._

_That night, after I bathed, he approached me before I could leave the pool, drenched and in a sheer towel. His eyes tried not to travel down, but I was used to the attention I received from men. One even told me that my body would make a pretty vase._

_Of course he was angry—his ego had been damaged, in front women that he wanted to impress. His delivery was emotional, but I was as stone-faced as a hieroglyph until he finished. He didn't seem to like it too much, so he decided to push me into the wall._

_I braced to defend myself—with or without my covering—but there was no need. His attack was in the form of a kiss, a powerful one. I didn't deny him his feelings and returned the gesture._

_He broke away, calling me a temptress under his breath. I smiled, and he looked as if he had been slapped. The Assasssin hurried away, and avoided speaking with me for days. When it came time for us to work on an assignment together, he refused to go along at first. But when he discovered that the handsome Cuthos was to take his place, he changed his mind the same day and we were headed to the heart of the Egyptian empire to pay a certain empress a visit._

_It was difficult to cover our tracks, but we managed to keep the royal guard off of our backs. The Master had already sent a letter ahead of us. He conjured up the idea that I should pose as a princess and Vajra as my slave from a land far away, seeking an alliance with the Egyptian army._

_Cleopatra was more than willing to comply, and even asked me to sit in her chambers the night that we arrived. I did not expect her to make advances towards me, and when I showed signs of disinterest, she attempted to convince me that every woman in Egypt did so. I told her I was from Gulgal, the fictional kingdom I hailed from, and she laughed, apprently thinking it was a joke._

_Before I left, she forced me into a kiss, and I felt violated. It felt unnatural to have another woman put her lips on mine, and I never desired it to happen again. If the timing had been right, I would have stabbed her right through the heart. Like the Assassin I had been trained to become, I expressed false interest and told her my desire to see her again.  
_

_When I returned to Vajra, he knew that something bad had happened but did not know what. When I finally disclosed it to him, he held me in his arms. I did not expect such kindness from a man that called me a temptress when he was the one who had taken the first action. I did not understand the emotions I felt at that time, but something inside of me awakened, and I could not look into his stormy gray eyes anymore._

_The Empress asked for me again a few days later, and that time I was ready. I wore a skirt that split at the hips and a tunic that revealed most of my cleavage. Vajra couldn't stop staring but he kept insisting that I wear something over it until I actually arrived at her chambers. He seemed a little envious of Cleopatra._

_She was prepared as well, her sheer clothing revealing things only her husband should have had a privilege to see. I played her heart like a golden harp, feeding her lies and fruit and wine until she was ready to pass out. My gift to her waited in a basket which I gave to her moments after her eyes had grown narrow and glossy. _

_When she saw my gift, all traces of inebriation left her body, but before she could escape, his fangs had sunk into her neck, leaving two fine slits in her pale flesh. I quickly put him back inside and wrapped her neck in a scarf, leaving her on her divan. I told the guards that she had fallen asleep during conversation, and I hurried away._

_Vajra was waiting for me when I returned to the single-room bureau. He knew that I had been successful and suggested that we leave before morning. We rested shoulder to shoulder just before dawn when he awakened me, and then we fled. Our Master was pleased in hearing the news of her death, and Cuthos began to focus his sights on me, impressed with my skill. Vajra said nothing as he pulled me farther and farther away. He seemed to return to his normal flirtatious ways as well._

_One day, when I was all alone in the bathing pool, Cuthos found me before I could fully clothe, and he attempted to ravish me. He had almost succeeded when Vajra nearly bludgeoned him to death with a stone. Cuthos ran away, staggering and bloodied, and we never heard or saw him again after that incident. I thanked him for helping me that night, saying that even a temptress needed help sometimes. He reddened and apologized for having called me that name. After that, he spent less and less time with the other women and worried more about following me everywhere I went-except for the bathing pools, of course. I found his company to be refreshing, and I found myself longing to be with him all the time._

_When he took me to the cotton fields, we kissed and held one another close, but he was careful not to start anything we could not finish. He said that he loved me and that he wanted to raise 'baby Vajras and Amunets' with me. I laughed and agreed to marry him just a few weeks later. Who knew that two Assassins who hated one another would fall in love?_

Raja felt a smile creep onto her face as she closed the book.

_'Altaïr and I went through the same ordeal. I guess even the worst of enemies can become friends, and even lifelong companions.'_

"Hello?" someone called into the air. Furrowing her brows, Raja looked all around. The voice was very feminine and soft. "Hello?"

Raja hurried to the main hall and discovered a lone woman standing in the doorway, looking around helplessly. The men on the balconies were murmuring to themselves as they stared at her.

"You should come with me," she told the girl, leading her outside by the hand. The other women had retired to their rooms.

"What is this place?" she asked. She sounded no older than twelve.

"This is a place for Assassins. Did someone lead you here? Are you lost?"

Her grass-green eyes widened, "Assassins? Thank goodness I've come to the right place." Raja took the time to study the girl. She was rather tall, almost as tall as Altaïr, and had long, slender limbs. Her face was long and narrow as well as her nose, and her lips were a pair of thin pink lines. Her wavy hair was a deep shade of blonde, almost copper in appearance.

"Are you in trouble?" she asked, readying herself to fetch the Grand Master.

"No, but my father sent me here to find the Assassins. He was dying and knew that his brothers would keep me safe. I came here all the way from Gaul." She collapsed against Raja, and she caught the thin, frail girl. "Thank you for not rejecting me," she sighed heavily.

"How could I reject one of my own?" Raja asked. She pulled away and said quietly, "They say I have the eyes of the Devil."

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Wow. I am SO sorry that I haven't posted in almost a year. The whole baby ordeal sort of threw me into a conflict I didn't know how to approach. Now that I've come out of it, a new issue in this story will come to the surface very soon. Thanks for reading this very due chapter. I have some new ideas for this tale, so it's not over just yet. Until next time, you know what to do. :-)


	38. The Life You Gave Me

A/N: Alright, this is the much anticipated ending for The Life You Gave Me, originally titled A Hidden Blade.

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of UbiSoft or its characters, so please do not sue. However, any characters not mentioned in the Assassin's Creed series that appear in this story belong to me.

**Journal Entry: 1257 A.D**

I have seen much throughout my life. My father's death, my Master's death, the death of many of my brothers and also the death of countless enemies. Death seems to be as naturally occurring as the sunrise and sunset. But I also experienced seeing firsthand the beginnings of new life. I held my eldest son, Darim, covered in blood and other things as he screamed with his newly formed pink lungs, shouting to the world that he was alive. And I also held Sef during his first few moments of life as he quietly inquired about the world with the eyes that he shared with his mother.

When I was young, I experienced love twice, and I did not think the second time was possible. Rajanah was a difficult, headstrong, and independent young woman when I first met her at the age of twenty-three. Almost skin and bones, and clothed in dirty rags, she had enough courage to stand up to me, proudly, and contest my authority. We fought many times, almost to the point of physical encounters, yet somehow, we managed to become friends after a time, and she willingly submitted to my lead, but not without asserting her personality in many decisions.

We married out of obligation, and I cursed myself for letting her drag me into her family's affairs that were deeply rooted in dangerous territory. We did not like each other that much at that time, and that is the point at which we finally came to understand that we were very much alike, and thus ill-fitted as a couple. But as with an ill-fitted garment, we tailored it to our imperfections and made it fit, and eventually our marriage was no longer an obligation.

At one point, I realized that living without her was no longer natural. Perhaps it is when I noticed that her strength, her resolve, and her optimism saved me from condemning my soul to a life of solitude and unhappiness. Along with this internal beauty came her external attractiveness, and I, being full-blooded male, couldn't ignore it. Thus, I was drawn to her like a parched wanderer stumbling upon an oasis, and I drank eagerly from her fountain. Rajanah embraced me fully as I did her, and the intense hatred we once had for another quickly became love. Perhaps the two emotions were not as far apart as east and west.

The loss of our first child devastated her, and I felt something inside of me grow cold, and yet burn simultaneously. I had felt that emotion before on many occasions, but I couldn't let it best me. Vengeance was like sweet poison: a delicacy that kills you slowly, seeping through your veins, into your heart, mind, and soul until it blinds you with uncontrollable fury that eventually leaves you as a hollow shell. I almost succumbed to this poison, but Rajanah's own resolve to mete out justice and not revenge outweighed my own darker desires.

After many months of searching for her relative, we found the boy in Rome, hidden beneath the city in its ancient catacombs. A fellow Assassin named Titanio and I bested the Templars, but not without great struggling and sacrifice. We lost twelve brothers that day, but not in vain. He returned to his wife, Sofia, and they raised six children together until they both departed from this world in the winter of 1235, and Oman was able to return to his mother in Banghezi. She was moved to rivers of tears at seeing him alive and well, and thanked Rajanah and I many times for bringing him home.

Once back home in Masyaf, Rajanah and I decided to start a family of our own, starting with Darim. At news of her pregnancy, I felt afraid that what would happen to the first would happen to him, but thankfully, she carried him until it was time for him to be introduced to the world. In the months preceding his birth, I watched her belly grow with the fruitage of life, a miracle in itself. How could one life form carry another for almost a year, stretching and expanding together and present a new life, fresh and young and unblemished? I suppose that is why some choose to believe in a single deity in the skies above.

After Sef came three girls, all of which took closely after their mother except for the last. She was mine. Quiet, pensive, highly intelligent and courageous, May came to be my most cherished child, and it was often that I found her at my feet or on my knee as I recounted my experiences. When she grew up, I knew many suitors would come her way, and I made sure to test them thoroughly. While most failed, one succeeded in winning Rajanah and I over, as well as capturing May's heart. He was an Assassin, handsome and stern as I was when I was young, yet he burned with passion for our cause, and that same passion burned for our daughter. I knew that she would be resting in strong hands.

By the age of sixty-five, I was grandfather to twelve children, and mourning the loss of Sef. His widow and their children departed for Alexandria some time after.

The device I had discovered in Solomon's Temple often spoke to me, and haunted my dreams with images of bloodshed, chaos and destruction. The sun scorched the surface of the earth, leaving a world of ash and barren wastelands until the green began to sprout forth once again, and humans and super humans alike rebuilt together. I recounted all that I had dreamed to Rajanah, and she tried to understand, but eventually, I realized that she didn't want to hear of the whispers of the past. They were a warning, but not for my time, so I locked the device away in this vault far below the castle of Masyaf. My enemies have drawn close, and I am alone now. All of my friends have preceded me in death; I am 92 years old, broken, tired, and satisfied with my course of life.

When it came time to say goodbye to Darim and my beloved wife, I almost departed with them, but my love for my family was not of utmost importance. They could not have the device.

While Darim left immediately after I ordered him to, my dear Rajanah stayed behind, begging me with tears in her eyes to come. After 66 years of marriage, I finally had to let her go. When we shared one last kiss, I recounted all the times we lay in bed without a single article of clothing on our bodies, whispering quietly to one another as we held the other close. I had given my entire being to this woman, and she had given hers to me, and birthed my children. A burden that came with sacrifice, but not without reward. I thanked her, and told her I loved her. I didn't know if we would meet in the afterlife if there was such a thing, for heaven was too grand of a privilege for someone like me.

In faith, she told me, "We will see one another again in paradise, young and perfect. And we will fall in love again." As I closed the gate behind her, she turned to me with a youthful smile on her face, and for a moment, I saw her as the hot-tempered young woman that stumbled into my castle.

Now alone, I can hear their footsteps above me, the breaking of glass, the toppling of bookshelves, but it is beginning to fade as I sit here in the center of all my writings about this round disc in my hands.

Death was imminent as my heart slowed to a crawl, but all I could think of was Rajanah Ibn La'Ahad.

And the life you gave me.

The End

I'm so so so SORRY for posting this waaaaay late. I fell in love with the ideas I had in this story, but as the real AC universe took its own course, I ran out of ideas since my timeline was way off from theirs. I wanted to write a few more chapters to flesh out the details of Oman's rescue and their life after, but I couldn't find the energy to come up with 15,000 words of an epic conclusion, so I came up with this brief epilogue from Altair's point of view.

I want to thank all that reviewed and followed this story for 3 years through the editing and terrible beginning chapters of this story, but I hope everyone enjoyed reading about Altair's life with Raja. It had its peaks and valleys, but they loved each other a lot, so it was very hard for Altair to say goodbye to her at the end. I know he only had 2 kids, but I decided he'd want some girls, especially one that took after him.

This isn't the ending I truly wanted, but I wanted to finish this story so I could have some closure and move on to other stories.

Thanks again.

-JuneSnow


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